


linii de sânge

by hikari100



Series: Vânătorul [1]
Category: Ghostbusters - All Media Types
Genre: Abduction, Abuse, Accidental Stimulation, Alternate Timelines, Amnesia, Anal, Aphrodisiacs, BDSM, Bad Boys, Begging, Biting, Blood, Body Modification, Bondage, Brainwashing, Branding, Childish Characters, Claiming, Clothes Fetish, Cock Bondage, Collars, Conditioning, Cuddling, D/s, Dating, Death, Deep Throating, Disabilities, Double Penetration, Drugs, Emotional Themes, Endearments, Feminine Terms for Males, Flirting, Forced Feminization, Frottage, Gags, Gender Themes, Gentleness, Good girls, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrid Peter, Hypnotism, Immobilization, Jewelry, Language, Latex, M/M, Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Mind Control, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Original Character(s), Pampering, Possession, Protectiveness, Psychic Peter, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Sexual Slavery, Sleep/Bedding Themes, Submission, Swallowing, Teasing, Tentacles, Touching, Yaoi, coming, falling, fantasies, heat - Freeform, magical themes, well-fucked, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-01-03 10:58:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21178295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikari100/pseuds/hikari100
Summary: Of the three Parapsychology teachers, Peter Venkman has always been an odd duck, to say the least. At least, the students and staff of Columbia think so. But...what if they had a point? After all, not much is known about Peter. Just who orwhatis Peter Venkman?





	1. Un vis...

**New York City, New York**  
**11:58 pm**

For once, as the moon rose to its highest peak among the starry skies, all was quiet. Citizens alike, were dreaming peacefully in the realm of Morpheus; all but one, that is. The light of the moon peeked out from behind some clouds; illuminating a room in a particular apartment, bathing the lone occupant in its eerie glow. A young man slept fitfully; tossing and turning in a restless sleep. His dark brown curls were matted to his clammy forehead, his face quite pale and in a twisted mask of pain, breathing harsh as he squirmed in discomfort. His rest had been peaceful, but with the moon at its peak, his once sweet dreams became a nightmarish hell. 

**Rmh de l rmwl rlgl...?**

As the moonlight washed over the room, the shadowy corners began to quiver with life; the temperatures slowly dropping. As if by a silent command, the bedroom window slowly opened; and a dense, warm fog began to creep in, snaking along the soft carpet. As the fog expanded, the sound of soft footsteps, could be heard approaching the bed.

**M aeghmb...?**

Shadowy tendrils stretched across the room; hovering over the sleeping male, as the fog curled lovingly around him. The young man groaned softly, turning his head slightly to the left as he breathed softly; the warm fog soothing his troubling thoughts. The tendrils were slithering under his night clothes; caressing every inch of soft flesh, perfectly melding against his frame. A slender, clawed hand reached out and gently caressed his left cheek; earning a soft sigh in return.

**...je...**  
**Hrep rebdih mj ebd fbeed...**

The young man snuggled into his pillow, falling into an even deeper, more peaceful sleep; his body humming as a pleasant warmth coursed through him. Under the dark presence, his body was slowly but surely, coming to life; becoming more and more _aware_. A thicker, more tube-like tendril ran lightly over his soft lips; and as his lips parted, it darted in. Soon, a visible bulge could be seen burying down his throat; throbbing gently.

A moment or two later, a new tendril formed; a rather special one. This new shadow was double branched, with the second strand bearing a suction-cup that dripped with a vicious blue-black fluid. The suction-cup gently attached itself to his hardening cock; a thinner strand slithering into the wet slit. The shadow's longer strand was rubbing at his increasingly slicked entrance; before slowly pushing its way in. A soft, sweet moan escaped; muffled as it was, arching as heat washed over his slumbering frame. As a delicious liquid began to flow, his nightpants were becoming tighter and tighter; soon soaked with his own desires.

**Nh'i hnal he mmclj srnbd...**

.-.-.-.

**_Where...where am I...?_ **

_A soft groan escaped somewhat thin lips, as the owner stirred; their body wracked from an unknown pain. They coughed weakly, a raspy sound as their throat burned and ached. Their head felt as if someone had taken a red hot knife, and stabbed them repeatedly; dark hisses whispering within their cloudy thoughts. It was the sound of metal rattling, that caught their attention._

_Oooh, bad move._

_Squeezing their eyes shut, they whimpered as a sharp pain seared across their sight. Tears welled up as their eyes continued to burn; what was happening? Where were they? As their fear rose, they failed to heed the soft footsteps coming towards them, nor did they hear the soft sight from above. But that of a sharp, clawed hand cupping their chin as the owner hummed softly. The scent of cinnamon, honey and something that could only be pure spice; greeted their strangely sensitive nose._

**"Seal je, bnhhbl ejl,"** _A low, husky voice spoke smoothly; sending a delightful chill down their spines._ **"Ewlj hreil wglhho loli ez oepgi,"** _The owner instructed; the rich baritone washed over the youngling. Somehow, instinctively, they knew who was speaking to them; it was the voice of their eternal protector. Their eyes fluttered, before slowly opening; wincing as a ruby light licked at their sight._

_Glazed green eyes stared blankly._

Blinking back the pain, the youngling looked to their protector with trust; their vision slowly, but surely, returning to them. Standing there, was a handsome man of an indescribable age; looking down with bemusement. The man was tall, but with a slender, yet muscular, frame. Wavy blood red curls tinged in golden-orange, framed a delicate face, a small nose and full lips, and eyes the color of freshly spilled blood; accented by his heavily tanned skin. His ears were longer, more slender; almost like that of an elf, a single golden hoop dangling from one ear. Long, black horns had sprouted from his forehead, curling as they grew. Intricate black markings formed alongside his face; forming intricate patterns of unknown origins.

_A further inspection showed that an inky darkness stained his forearms, looking eerily similar to scales; the same inky darkness marring his bare legs. His nails were longer, more claw-like; shining with fresh blood, as a devilish tail swished gently. He wore not a scrap of cloth, revealing an impressive looking cock; a gleaming dark red that was narrowed at the tip, dripping with a vicious blue-black fluid._

**"Hrlgl je,"** _The man breathed as the child focused on him._ **"Hrmh'i flhhlg, nij'h nh?"** _The demonic man purred, his lips curling slightly; revealing needle sharp fangs as he looked the child over with growing hunger. And oh, how adorable they looked..._

_The child was rather small for their age, a tiny frame that was curled slightly; the onyx chains looping around their thin limbs, keeping them nice and docile. Rich, dark chocolate locks framed their pale, round face as visibly glazed green eyes stared blankly; an odd pink hue tinted the dull iris._

**"Hlbb al srnbd,"** _The man mused as he knelt down to the child. The child met his gaze, a slight shiver going through their frame; heat washing over them._ **"Smj oep glalaflg mjohrnjv?"** _The child stopped, a bit taken back by the sudden question. Come to think of it, that was a good question. What could they remember? _

**"Oepg jmal, wlgrmwi?"**

_The child frowned, their eyes dimming slightly. "My...my name..." They murmured, looking down as they struggled to recall who they were. Lost in thoughts, the child didn't see as the man snapped the chain linking the child to floor. "My...my name..." The child whimpered as a sharp pain shot across their temples; forcing them to cease all thoughts._

**"Lmio je, Sayuri,"** _His voice was gentle, brushing a dark strand from the child's face; cooing softly as the child sniffed, eyes teary. "Sayuri..." They whispered, meeting their protector's eyes curiously. "...is that my name...?" Azomoth of Fuego arched an elegant eyebrow, before smiling softly at the dazed child._

**"Oli, ao srnbd,"** _Azomoth agreed, his voice warm and kind; gently taking the child into his strong arms. The child flushed, burying their head into the man's chest. "Where...am I...?" The child rasped, earning a soft chuckle in return._ **"Ill zeg oepgilbz."**

_...huh?_

_Turning their head, they saw that the room was quite spacious; fit for royalty. The walls and ceiling were shaded in rich amethyst, inky black and icy blue, a blue-black trim and a marbled black-and-white floor. There, laid upon piles of thick, soft blankets; a fluffy blue-black pillow resting on the nest. Strangely enough, there was a large ornate box, resting in one corner of the room._

_Heat curled in Sayuri._

_"Home..." They mumbled, burying their head in Azomoth's chest. The man smiled, cradling the child as Sayuri nuzzled them; breathing in their scent of sweet milk and honey._ **"Ao srnbd,"** _He cooed as Sayuri yawned cutely._

**"Oep mgl njdlld real."**

_Sayuri snuggled against their protector; clutching at the man's dark red locks, drifting into a peaceful rest. As their new name settled in their mind; something from within, settled in their shattered mind, sealing the deal for good._

_Time for the real fun to begin._

.-.-.-.

**One Month Later**

_Sayuri giggled as they curled up in Azomoth's lap, cheeks dusted a light purplish-pink as the man ran a clawed hand through their curly locks. It had been a month since they woke up, their memories forever shrouded in shadows; but with Azomoth, those memories were slowly returning. They flushed as Azomoth nuzzled them, his tail curling around their waist._

**_Master..._ **

.-.-.-.

**Five Months Later**

_Azomoth grinned as he looked his child over with growing lust. With the sixth month fast approaching, Sayuri was blossoming wonderfully. The darkness of the realm had slowly, but surely, been sinking into Sayuri's flesh; corrupting the once sweet soul to eternal darkness. Sayuri had grown tremendously, standing at a height of a little over four feet; filling out greatly. Their hips were slowly expanding, their frame becoming more feminine; face fuller and features softer. Their ears had been gradually sinking into their skull; triangular feline ears slowly taking their place, lined with silky inky fur._

_Yawning cutely, Sayuri revealed that their teeth were becoming sharper; the canines hollowing out as a venom was taking root. Their scent of sweetened milk and honey was growing stronger; practically enticing to the lustful demon. Azomoth growled softly, his pupils thinning into slits as his lust rose; hissing as heat seethed under his flesh. Oh, how he longed to claim that sinful body as his own. However, Sayuri was not ready._

_Yet, anyway._

.-.-.-.

**Two Months Later**

_Sayuri blushed, their ears flattening slightly as Master Azomoth gave them a lustful look. The cub was growing quite beautiful. Their hips had flared a bit more; their chest a bit more narrowed. Their nipples had become swollen and oh so sensitive, the flesh gently swelling. Their cock stood at attention, having gained a rather feline appearance; thick at the base, but a narrowed, barbed shaft, dripping with a vicious blue-black fluid. Small black horns had sprouted from their forehead, slowly curling as they grew. Small bumps were beginning to form along their spine; revealing themselves to be incredibly sensitive to the touch. _

_Sayuri purred as Azomoth gently cupped their chin; tilting their head upwards, before capturing their lips in a soft, sweet kiss. The shadows of the room were quivering with need; and as the kiss broke, it was all that the shadows needed. They whimpered as the shadowy tendrils coiled around them; wrapping around their plump breasts (squeezing gently), trailing lightly over their toned stomach, and looping between their buttocks. They moaned as the tendrils latched onto their dick; which was dripping with need, and slid into their slicked, wet hole._

"Dmddo..." _Sayuri mewled, their pupils slowly turning to slits._ "Dmddo wblmil..." _Heat flooded their limbs; the warm, wet fog was wrapping around their thoughts. They couldn't focus, couldn't think; all they could do was feel._ **"Spf..."** _Azomoth cooed as Sayuri was left panting with need._ **"De oep nir he fl anjl?"** _Sayuri blinked owlishly, before their cheeks were stained with a soft purple; glazing over. "Oli...dmddo," They whispered, heat pooling in their belly as Azomoth kissed them. _

"N...n mjh he fl oepgi dmddo..."

.-.-.-.

**One Year Later**

_Finally._

_After a long year, the time for Sayuri to join with Azomoth of Feugo, had finally arrived. Several servants had taken the new cub to be cleaned up and prepped for the ancient ceremony. The demon grinned, licking his lips as he thought about the newly born Hell-Cat._

_Sayuri stood at the perfect height of five feet, their skin forever flushed with heat. They were curvy in all of the right places, perfectly plump breasts, and a nice, thick shaft that stood at attention; dripping with need. Their cat-like ears flickered; lined with silky, inky fur. Black horns curled around their face, their teeth hollowed and full of venom. Silky, inky fur lined their slender frame; spinal spikes much longer and deadlier. Sayuri's eyes had gone from a dull green to a intense shade of purple; the slits pure silver. Their nails were longer, more claw-like; but dainty paws for feet. Their long, devilish tail swished about._

**"Nh ni hnal, spf."**

_Sayuri smiled softly, their empty eyes glittering like jewels as Dmddo rubbed their head; cooing as the little Hell-Cat purred. Sayuri, while a bit nervous, was looking forward to being with Dmddo very much. Dmddo already had their soul and mind; and tonight, their body. Azomoth growled, his eyes becoming slits as his Hellhounds brought him his cub. Sayuri bit back a moan, seeing Dmddo standing there in all his glory; dick dripping with need. The Hell-Cat was as bare as the day they were born; silky fur coating bits of their frame, leaving them helpless before the hungry demon._

_Sayuri's eyes darkened as they slyly got down on their hands and knees, kneeling before Dmddo with hunger. "Dmddo," They purred, taking Dmddo's leaking shaft into their mouth; humming as they swallowed eagerly. Azomoth growled, hissing as the cub took him fully into their sinful little mouth; licking and suckling gently._

_Such a dirty little minx._

_Sayuri was in heaven, licking and suckling as Dmddo hissed and growled; before a dark, yet sweet, fluid was coating their lips. They swallowed the contents, purring as they felt their own excitement dripping. "Dmddo," They whimpered, their hips quivering with need. "Jlld...dmddo..." Azomoth growled, as Sayuri leaned back; spreading their legs, exposing a swollen, wet hole. "Njindl..." The demon hissed, gently taking the child into his arms; his aching dick rubbing against Sayuri's wet hole. Sayuri gasped, eyes snapping open; pupils thin slits, feeling Dmddo sinking into their flesh._

"Oliiiii..." _Sayuri hissed as Dmddo fully sheathed himself. Azomoth was shivering, panting softly as he fully sheathed himself in his cub._ "Ao srnbd...ao flmphnzpb cnhhlj..." _Sayuri mewled as Dmddo started to thrust; the shadows quivering with life._

**RE...MGL OEP...?**

_Another thrust._

"Sayuri...ez Fuego..."

"Sayuri flbejvi he...Dmddo..."


	2. Zi normală ... Nu!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just another day in New York City...
> 
> ...right?

**New York City, New York**

As the sun rose, the streets of New York City sang with life. People were preparing themselves for the day, while stores got ready to open; their merchandise all ready and raring to go. It was odd, though. For the first time in days, the skies were clear; the air crisp and cool. Sunlight began to filter through the curtains; bathing the room in loving warmth. As the light washed over the room; the lone figure of a young man, in the bed, cringed deeply, snuggling further into the thick warmth of his duvet. At the same time, the furniture within the room gave an ominous rattle; the air growing thick.

**Sayuri...**

A soft, sweet moan escaped his lips; the soft, dark husky call whispering in his cloudy thoughts as he slumbered on. He was drifting in-an-out; somewhere between the dream and reality. A pleasant warmth had flooded his limbs; coursing through him. It felt too good, laying there; so much so, that he was unwilling to wake 

**Sayuri...**

Another ominous rattle.

**Sayuri...**

Unknown to anyone, faint markings flickered to life; slowly forming over his left leg, pulsing softly. There came another rattle, and slowly, but surely, the furniture began to lift into the air; the air thick with power. 

**Sayuri...**   
**MCL...PW!**

Gah!

Without warning, nineteen-year-old Peter Venkman sat up in bed; his breath coming out in heavy, pants. He was decidedly pale and clammy, one hand still clutching at the duvet; his eyes wide and somewhat glassy. However, as Peter sat up, there came a tremendous crash as his furniture came crashing down.

Oooh.

Flinching deeply, Peter ducked his head; hands instinctively clasping his ears. When things seemed to have settled, the brunette lowered his hands; blinking owlishly as he looked around his now ruined room. 

Great...

His furniture seemed alright, but a closer look revealed some rather impressive looking cracks in the wood. He frowned when he saw the numerous papers scattered along the floor, which included several books that had been haphazardly scattered; several pages having been torn and threw about. Rubbing his face tiredly, Peter laid back down with a sigh. This was gonna take hours to clean up, and have everything restored to working order; or as orderly as possible. Wait a minute, his green eyes widen as he finally realized what day it was.

What time was it?!

His eyes darted over to the, thankfully, still functioning clock on the bedside table and seemed to pale at the sight. It was almost seven in the morning; his first class was to start in less than an hour!

Shit.

** _I'm late!_ **

.-.-.-.  
**Meanwhile**

An elderly woman with graying auburn hair sighed as she picked up the fallen books from the table. Books that should have been returned to the shelves the night before; well, it appeared that someone wasn't doing their job. She huffed out a tortured breath, reading several of the titles; noting that they belonged to the rare collection.

Which was down in the basement.

Frowning, she checked the time. Oh, she had plenty of time before the head manager showed up for the day. Sighing, she gathered the books into her thin arms, and began shuffling towards the stairwell that would lead to the basement. Come to think of it, why was the rare collections located in the basement? You would think the section would be set up somewhere upstairs where everything was kept at a regulated temperature?

Oh well, not her problem.

Bypassing the few workers who were there; cleaning, she absentmindedly walked by an old painting, when a chill went down her spine. She shuddered, an iciness slowly trickling down her neck; as it felt like someone or some_thing_ was watching her from the shadows. But, that was impossible...

...wasn't it?

Uneasy, she shook it off and continued on. As she went through the children's room, she could have sworn that she heard faint whispers. Odd, it sounded like there was a group of children in the room; but she was alone there. 

_I'm hearing things_, she thought, steeling her nerves. She straightened herself up and continued her journey to the basement. Unfortunately, this was where things got a little...strange, to say the least. Entering the Card Catalogs section, she stopped; pausing as if shocked by something. And well, this was something that _wasn't_ exactly normal. Somehow, someway, the cards from the nearby catalogs had been stacked into grand piles; which included many books. While impressive looking, this was going to set the staff back by hours; just to get things back in working order. How on earth had this happened?

**Shhhh**

...eh?

The hair on the back of her neck began to rise, goosebumps flooding her skin as the temperature began to drop at an alarming rate. Swallowing thickly, she slowly turned around only for her eyes to widen in absolute horror at what was hovering there; glaring at her with absolute hatred.

"AAAAAYYYYYIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!"


	3. Ciudat central

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A not so ordinary day.
> 
> Why was it him?

He hated being right.

Today had not been a good one, at all. First, waking up from such an intense dream; one that he couldn't even remember, to finding out that he had less than an hour to reach the college. Besides that, an old injury in his left leg flared with a vengeance. The pain had been immense, forcing him to retrieve a much needed cane.

Upon reaching the university, however, Peter Venkman noticed something. The students and staff of Columbia were regarding him somewhat wearily, and others were looking on with concern. It took for the Dean, to pull him aside; granting him permission to sit out for the day. His colleagues, Egon Spengler and Ray Stantz would be the ones to take over his part of the lessons.

Had he really been that obvious?

Green eyes dimming, Peter looked down at himself with a deep frown. The cane was propped innocently next to his desk, reminding him of the trouble of his own childhood. It was very rare now for the injury to act up, and it _had_ been awhile since the last flare up. Unfortunately, this meant that his medicine for the treatment was out of date; and while he had called for a renewal, it wouldn't be ready for a couple of days.

Why was it always him?

.-.-.-.

**Paranormal Studies**  
**3:25 pm**

Classes had finally ended for the day, with students flooding the halls; chatting softly with one another as teachers sagged with relief in their seats. At long last, winter break had finally reached Columbia University. A two week break for the students to spend time with their family and friends, and for the teachers to catch up on some much needed work. Several students were walking down one particular hallway; noting a door with a _We're Busy_ sign, hanging on the knob. Ah yes, the Paranormal Studies; considered a joke by many of the university. The course was taught by Egon Spengler, Ray Stantz and of course, Peter Venkman.

Dr. Spengler was what you would call the classical nerd. He was tall for his age, but there was an air of strength about him; almost like a protector. His curly straw-colored hair was wild, but in a good way and kind dark eyes that stood out behind a pair of thin, silver frames. To put it simply, he was an introvert, but get him going on ancient history or even the paranormal, and he was a lot more open about his passions.

Dr. Stantz, to put it simply, was a childish man. He was of average height with rich auburn hair that was quite messy, pale like Egon, but sweet honey brown eyes. Ray wasn't the type to be quiet, he was cheerful as can be; with a bright personality. He was passionate about the supernatural and truly believed in the afterlife.

Venkman...

The students frowned, exchanging dark looks. Peter Venkman was an odd fellow, to say the least. He wasn't bad looking, but there was something about him that left many unsettled. He was of average height, but with thick dark chocolate curls and such bright green eyes; a shade so bright that it gave him an ethereal appearance. It was as if he was judging you, and would find you lacking; with such an empty gaze.

Needless to say, Venkman wasn't very popular with the university.  
And yet, on this very day, was something entirely else.

When Venkman showed up this morning, it had been a great shock to see the man leaning heavily on a cane; looking decidedly pale. The Dean must have spoken to him about it, as Dr. Spengler and Stantz took over what was his portion of the daily lesson. However, the afternoon classes had been cancelled as the two had been called away; leaving Venkman behind.

How curious.

What could have called them away so suddenly?

(...)

Jack Dennison and Jennifer Smith exchanged looks as they took their seats in the lab of the Paranormal Studies hall. An flyer had been posted earlier that week, about simple tests for potential ESP; with the agreement of paying those who attended. Now, normally students would ignore something like this; but today was different. Perhaps it had something to do with Venkman's morning arrival? Or perhaps, the curiosity over the earlier dismissal of the class for the day. Either way, Jack and Jennifer had been sent in by their respective friends to find out.

These so-called tests, they weren't really what one would call a 'test'. They were more like simple or childish games; something so simple that a child could solve them. The clock ticked by slowly, and well, both felt as if they were being insulted by the results. It was humiliating, to say the least.

Peter leaned heavily on his cane as he withdrew the set of flashcards from a nearby desk. He had already set Jack and Jennifer up; having the two hooked up to a set of small machines. Here was the thing, these machines were technically set to 'electrocute' the user, but Peter had them modified just a bit. Instead of a little shock, the user would receive a short burst of intense heat; as if they stepped into a sauna.

It was safer, anyway.

The two students watched as Venkman limped over, practically collapsing in his seat, sagging with relief; his eyes closing momentarily. There was a pained grimace that washed over him, but it was gone just like that. His eyes opened, the green irises darker; placing the stack of cards on the table, a shimmering rune staring back at them.

"The object of this test is rather simple," Venkman said quietly, his voice low. "All you have to do," He looked up tiredly, rubbing his temples; as if to stave off a growing headache. "is clear your mind and focus on a card." He looked down at the cards with a soft sigh, leaning back slightly as he focused on them.

"And try to figure out what symbol is on each card."

...oh.

"Just like that?" Jack asked dryly, as Venkman did a quick shuffle of the cards. "Just like that," The man agreed, before tapping the first card. "Like this one, for example." Venkman smirked; an odd gleam in his eye. "is a circle." He calmly flipped the card over, revealing that it was indeed a circle.

Wait a minute...

"And before either of you ask," Venkman said slowly, his head lowered. "I know of the rumors about our department." Jack and Jennifer both tensed, looking down at their hands; as Jack swallowed thickly. "And that your friends are the ones to convince you to attend this little session." Jack's head lowered as Jennifer's heart sank; they both had but the same thought.

_How did he know?_

"I know, due to the fact that those rumors have been around since we first joined the staff last year," Venkman murmured, unconsciously answering their silent thoughts; sending a chill down their spines. "Now," He continued, giving a faint, sharp smile. "Why don't we begin before we're interrupted?" Maybe...maybe this wasn't such a good idea...? And well, it looked like there was more to Venkman than what everyone first thought.

A _lot_ more.

"Alright Jack," Venkman murmured, his voice dropping a bit. The poor guy was decidedly pale, a glimmer of sweat visible as his breathing seemed harsher, somehow. "You're up first." Jack hesitated, looking at the deck with a furrow of the brows before trying in a weak voice.

"Square?"

Venkman sighed, shaking his head as he tapped the card. "Star," He said simply, flipping the card over, showing that it was indeed a star. Jack squeaked, jerking back when a sudden wave of heat washed over him. "What was that?" He demanded, panting as the heat flickered angrily. Venkman raised an eyebrow. "It was either a burst of heat," He said slowly, as if explaining to a young child. "Or a small shock when you get an answer wrong." Venkman gave them a pointed look, his green eyes hard. "The heat was a safer option, unless you _want_ the shock...?"

Eeep!

Jack frantically shook his head, auburn curls bouncing as he lowered his head. Jennifer sat back, her brown eyes meeting Venkman's green orbs; before looking to the cards. "Is it a heart?" She teased, finding him more intriguing. Venkman shook his head, a sense of annoyance flickering in his mind as he glared at her.

"Circle," He said sharply, the switch flipping itself as she jerked back; pouting, her cheeks pinking from the sudden heat. "Miss Smith," Venkman's voice turned cold, shuffling the cards as his eyes narrowed. "You're not my type." Jack snorted softly, realizing what Jennifer had tried to pull; but that Venkman was not falling for such a devious trick. Jennifer pouted, twirling a blond strand as she gave him a coy smile. "I can be," She purred as he frowned deeply. "Unfortunately, we'll need to wrap this up as my colleague, Dr. Stantz is about to come in." His green eyes, darkening slightly, met Jack's worried brown eyes. 

Jack swallowed thickly, feeling much like a small child as those empty eyes bore into his. He looked at the card, feeling his heart race before something came to him. "A couple of wavy lines?" Venkman blinked, looking at the card, as if surprised by something. "Right symbol," He said slowly. "But, it's _three_ wavy lines."

Wait -

"I-I was right?" Jack gaped as the card flipped over, revealing three wavy lines. Jennifer was now looking at him, her eyes wide as she realized that he had been right. Sure, it had been a wild guess, but it was the right one. Suddenly, the door to the lab flew open and a rather excited looking Ray Stantz hurried in...

...just as Peter Venkman said.

"This is it! This is definitely it!" The man squealed, his eyes bright with impish glee as a wide grin crossed his lips. He was searching through the numerous desks and file cabinets, for who knows what; all the while, talking loudly. "Did those UV lenses for the cameras come in?" He called over his shoulder. "And the blank tape?"

Eh?

Ray stopped, as if realizing something and turned around; only to see Peter sitting at a table with two students. The students were looking from Peter to him with wide, disbelieving eyes. Oh, that's right; the ESP testing was today. 

Whoops.

"You forgot about the tests today," Peter said dryly as he began to reshuffle the cards; intending to put them away for the afternoon. Ray turned red, rubbing the back of his neck in a sheepish manner. "Sorry," He flushed as Jack and Jennifer just stared; what was bothering them?

"Anyway, Peter," Ray brushed off his embarrassment as he focused on his friend. "Today at 1:40 at the main branch of the New York Public Library on Fifth Avenue," Ray's eyes were a lit with passion, and Peter was a bit taken back; before a wave of unease washed over him. "ten people witnessed a free floating, full torso apparition!" Ray then frowned, before wincing. "After causing some destruction, the apparition scared the socks of some poor old librarian." Peter grimaced, feeling a headache coming on. Wait, why was the idea of attending the library on fifth avenue bugging him so much? Even as a kid, he had refused to go near the building; preferring one of the smaller branches.

**NOT MY BOOKS!**

Peter groaned softly, clutching at his head; as it felt like a storm was brewing there. The two students jumped to their feet in alarm, as Venkman bent over; breathing heavily as he clutched at his head, a mask of pain twisting his pale features. Ray was right by his side, placing a gentle hand on his back; rubbing soothing circles as Peter whimpered softly. "You okay?" Ray asked softly, mindful of his tone. He had seen Peter this morning, and had felt bad as the guy looked quite ill; and hadn't mind taking over his portion of the day's lessons. But now, he couldn't help but wonder if Peter should have stayed home for the day. 

"I-I'm fine," He rasped. "J-Just a he-headache." The two exchanged looks, knowing that he was lying. A normal headache didn't cause someone to bend over like that, nor did headaches cause someone to stutter. Something else was bothering him, but why wasn't Venkman telling Stantz? Weren't they friends?

Then again...

"The branch on fifth avenue..." Peter murmured, before a faint memory came to him and he frowned. "You're not talking about Eleanor Twitty, are you?" He asked curiously, silently promising himself to take some pain meds later. 

"Whose Eleanor Twitty?"


	4. Rănit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's just say things don't go so well at the library

"Whose Eleanor Twitty?"

At Jack's innocent question, Peter inwardly winced, rubbing his aching temples; the headache having gone from a dull roar to a raging fire. Ooh, that was a definite head rush; and he sank into his seat, placing his head down on the cold table. Still worried about him, Ray had gone to get a glass of cold water and was back within minutes; placing the glass down carefully. Peter gratefully took the glass, taking a sip, sighing as the cold water soothed his now dry throat. He swallowed thickly, placing a hand over his stomach; breathing slowly as nausea churned his senses. It took him a moment or two, before he was finally able to speak.

"Eleanor Twitty was the librarian in charge of the rare collection," He said quietly, gazing down at his glass with dimmed eyes. "One day a rare book came into her collection," Peter's brow furrowed slightly, as if confused by something. "Around the same time, she started dating a man named Archie Hoover," He mumbled, and Ray sat up; interested by the story. "Turns out, he was after the book in her care." Jack and Jennifer exchanged somewhat uneasy looks. "Once she found out what he was up to, she dumped him." Jennifer smirked, as she grabbed her jacket. "Sounds like a smart woman," She mused. Peter winced rubbing at his temples. "Not exactly," He said with a pained grimace. 

"Why?" Ray questioned. "Seems like the reasonable thing to do." Peter frowned, shaking his head. "Not exactly," He murmured, his stomach churning still. "Evidently, he murdered her." At this, the two students and Ray froze, before turning wide, horrified eyes on the silent brunette. "He _killed_ her?!" Jack squeaked, his heart pounding as Venkman gave the barest of nods.

"As well as a dozen others to cover up his crime."

"What," Ray swallowed thickly, a chill going down his spine as those darkened green eyes looked up owlishly. "What happened to this Archie fellow?" Peter snorted, his eyes still somewhat dimmed; as if he was looking at something that only he could see. "He was executed," He muttered dryly. "Right before he died, he vowed that he would come back as some form of god," Peter rolled his eyes, his vision finally cleared and the nausea seemed to have settled. _"Mi se pare o prostie,"_ He grumbled as he slowly got to his feet. Ray was surprised by the Romanian coming from Peter, and briefly wondered just how many languages that the younger man knew.

"I think we're going to go now," Jennifer said nervously as she hurried to the door, with Jack hot on her tail. Peter blinked owlishly, before shaking his head. "How do you know this, anyway?" Ray asked curiously while handing Peter his jacket. The brunette frowned, his green eyes dimmed as he looked disturbed.

"I don't know."  
He honestly didn't know.

.-.-.-.

"You guys have been going all over the place," Peter mused, much later as he and Ray were making their way up the steps of the library. Peter was a bit slow, leaning heavily on his cane as his muscles screamed in protest. "meeting and greeting every freaking schizo in the five boroughs who've insisted they've had a paranormal encounter." He raised an eyebrow, casting a sideways glance to an embarrassed Ray.

"How is this any different?"

"Of course you've forgotten that I was present at an undersea," Ray scoffed, his hands twitching as if wanting to help Peter; but willingly stayed back. He knew how stubborn Peter was about accepting help, and well, the younger male was determined to get up without trouble. "unexplained, mass sponge migration." Peter snorted as they reached the doors, inwardly grimacing as his leg threatened to give out; knowing that he wouldn't be of much use soon. "Ray, those 'sponges'," He placed air quotations around said word, looking annoyed. "migrated like a foot and a half." He pointed out with a dry tone.

Oh?

Looking head, Peter smiled slyly when he saw Egon underneath a table; the man having failed to see them coming in. His eyes lit up with impish glee as he limped over; catching Ray's attention, who shook his head with bemusement. Of course Peter couldn't resist the chance to cause a little mischief. Seeing that Egon had yet to look up, Peter grinned toothily as he leaned down; right where Egon's stethoscope was. "Oh Egon..." He crooned, his voice low and cackling with glee; fighting back a snicker as he felt the man twitch under the table. His grin widening, he slammed his fist down on the spot, earning a startled yelp; followed by the poor man banging his head on the table.

Ouch.

Egon scrambled out, rubbing his sore head as Peter stood over him with a playful smile. "Enjoying yourself?" He asked lightly. "Very funny," Egon grumbled, but there was a soft look to his eyes as he slowly stood up, mindful of his head as he did so. "What have you got then?" Peter asked, looking at him with curious green eyes, leaning heavily on his cane. "Oh, it's big Peter," Surprisingly enough, he sounded eager. It was always hard to tell what he was thinking, or feeling, for that matter as he had a somewhat monotonous voice. And yet, Peter was able to see the signs perfectly, so he always knew what the man was expressing; and currently, he was very excited. 

"Are you sure about that?" Peter drawled, turning his head to the left as a stressed-looking man with slicked back auburn hair and tired gray eyes, all the while wearing a brown business suit; walking towards them looking highly nervous. "I'm Roger Delicore," The man introduced himself tiredly. "Are you the men from the university?" Peter gave a slight nod. "I'm Venkman," He said quietly. "And that's Egon and Ray," He gestured to said men as he said their names. How odd, that he only gave his surname. Mr. Delicore looked relieved, and he gestured for them to follow; although, he shot Peter a concerned look, once he saw the cane.

"Thank you for coming," Delicore sounded harried about the event. "I do hope we can get this cleared quickly _and_ quietly," He warned; leading them to an off area-office for employees that was just behind a row of tables. However, the moment Peter crossed the threshold, something unexpected happened. He staggered as he was struck by a sudden wave of dizziness, his stomach lurching as his vision swarmed. Groaning softly, he placed a shaky hand on the doorway. His head felt like it was going to explode, emotions not his own assaulted his thoughts.

Rage.  
Pure, unadulterated rage.

It was Egon, who reached Peter first, alarmed by the sudden pallor to his skin. Peter was _very_ pale, his green eyes semi-glazed and he was breathing a bit on the harsher side. "I-I'm fine," Peter slurred, shaking his head he fought back the sudden nausea.

**YOU'LL DO**

...eh?

And just like that, the pain was gone. His head cleared up as his vision sharpened once more, though there was still a faint sense of nausea. Biting back a growl, Peter withdrew his arm from Egon, completely missing the man's hurt look; but not Ray. Ray bit his lip, a slight frown gracing him as he looked away. 

Looking around, Peter spotted an older woman with graying auburn hair, laying down on a dark chaise with a younger ravenette woman placing a cool washcloth on her forehead. The older woman looked quite pale herself, her eyes wide as her hands shook. "I don't remember seeing any legs," She murmured loudly. "But it had arms as it reached for me."

"Arms?" Ray exchanged excited smiles with Egon, watching as Peter limped up to the woman with a curious gaze. "I can't wait to get a look at this thing!" He suddenly flinched as a chill went down his spine; a clear sign of displeasure. Eh, maybe he should keep to himself for awhile?

"Miss Alice?" Peter called softly. It took a moment or two of calling her name, before the woman finally looked up; her eyes widening. As if realizing something, she hastily sat up; concerned by his appearance. "I just need to ask you a few questions," His voice was soft and pleasant, as he leaned on his cane. "Is that alright?" She nodded, concerned about his pale face and gestured for him to sit down. Peter inwardly grimaced, wondering what it was about him that got people all fretting about? Sighing, he tiredly sat down, ignoring her relieved look; but focused on her as he spoke. "Have you or anyone in your family ever been diagnosed with a mental illness?" 

Alice blinked owlishly.

"My uncle thought he was Saint Jerome once," She mused thoughtfully as he paused. "I'll take that as a _yes_," He muttered, not looking forward to the next set of questions. "Do you, uh, use drugs, stimulants or alcohol of any sort?" The woman's eyes narrowed as Delicore looked affronted. 

"Of course not!"  
"What does that have to do with anything?!"

Peter frowned deeply, his eyes cast downwards as he breathed softly. "I'm merely covering all possible bases," He said icily, the lights flickering weakly. Egon looked down at his PKE Meter with a frown, noting the blipping lights. "Ray, it's moving," He warned, catching everyone's attention.

Wait - did he say _moving_?

Oh boy.

(...)

As the three headed in the direction of the basement, Peter couldn't help but wonder about his earlier feelings. If this _was_ the ghost of the late Eleanor Twitty, then wouldn't it be advisable to turn around and just _leave_? Peter never told Ray, but unlike Eleanor, the remains of Archie's victims were recovered. Egon was leading them, the PKE Meter in hand as Ray was behind him with the camera; eagerly waiting to film the possibilities. A chill went down Peter's spine, a dangerous cold flooding his limbs as his green eyes darted nervously. His eyes widen as he swore he caught sight of something just outside his vision.

Not good.

Still shivering, Peter looked up, a bit surprised to see numerous towers made from books of various sizes and thickness. "Check it out," Ray breathed in awe. Egon was waving the PKE Meter over it, raising an eyebrow at the readings. A definite reading, score!

"Symmetrical book stacking," Ray continued as he inched around the leaning tower carefully. "just like the Philadelphia mass turbulence of 1947!" Peter raised an eyebrow as he struggled to get around the tower, though Ray and Egon had an easier time of doing so. "You're right," Peter drawled sarcastically. "No human would stack books like this."

Ray tilted his head, as if listening to something. "Do you hear that?" He questioned, his eyes showing a childlike curiosity. Ray sniffed the air, wrinkling his nose as he picked up on a faint, if not sour, scent. Peering around the corner, he spotted a row of card catalogs; several opened and coated with a thick, semi-clear substance.

Actual ectoplasmic residue!

"Venkman, get a sample of this," Egon said absentmindedly, handing over a petri dish to the male. "You want me to _what_?!" Peter hissed, eyeing the substance wearily. It may have had a faint scent to both Ray and Egon, but it positively **reeked** some_thing_ at the corner of his sight; only it was a lot more visible. And what it looked like, couldn't be possible; leaving him in a nervous, agitated manner. Hopefully, they could this over with; and fast. "Egon," Egon looked up, inwardly wincing at the low growl of Peter's voice. "your mucus." Peter shoved the dish into his chest and looked away with a huff. Suddenly, one of the towers behind them, came crashing down without warning. Ray squeaked, turning his head sharply to see a pile of overturned books in the place of a tower.

"This happen before?" Peter asked dryly as Ray shook his head weakly. Well, he and Egon were the ones who went out more on these sightings; unlike Peter. "I see," Peter said slowly, his head beginning to throb once more. At the same time, the three could see a soft, purple glow coming from around the corner of a bookshelf wall. Curious, they peered around the corner, only to see an elderly woman floating in mid-air. She was dressed in an old fashioned, high collared gown; calmly reading a book. "A full torso apparition," Ray whispered. "And she's real."

"So," Peter swallowed thickly, as he realized who this was. "What do we do?" Egon looked down at the PKE Meter, feeling completely lost as Ray was silent. Peter blinked, before his eyes narrowed slightly. "Can we talk, for a moment here?" He hissed, before dragging the two men off to the side. "You didn't have a plan for this?" Peter snapped as Ray turned a light pink. "We should, uh, at least _try_ to communicate with her," He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck in a sheepish manner. As if realizing something, both Egon and Ray turned expectant looks on Peter, who took a step back in shock.

** _Me? They want me to talk to her?!_ **

Peter swallowed thickly, feeling a bit ill at the implications. Oh man, this wasn't going to end well; for who that would be, who knew? He shakily walked back out, his heart racing. "Miss Twitty?" Silence, before the elderly woman turned her head sharply, looking at Peter with impossibly dark eyes; as if stunned. "That is your name...isn't it?" Peter tried weakly. "Eleanor Twitty?" Ray was snapping pictures, before he remembered what Peter had said about the woman; a chill going down his spine as the possibility that this may have been a bad idea.

**You...how did...?**

Peter jerked back, hearing the faint wisp of a husky, feminine voice. He stared up at her with wide eyes, wondering faintly if this was her talking. After all, a quick look to the guys, proved to Peter that it was just him who was hearing the voice. Was that a good thing or not?

...probably not.

With his back to them, neither Ray nor Egon saw what was happening between Peter and the ghost of Eleanor Twitty. The spirit reached out to the young male, and the moment her fingers brushed against his shoulder; Peter's mind was overwhelmed by an assortment of images and pure, raw fear.

Rahat!

_"La dracu ', asta te doare,"_ Peter moaned, staggering back as he clutched at his head; his cane cluttering loudly as it hit the ground. Embarrassed, the woman withdrew her hand, watching quietly as the man practically quivered from the sudden assault. "Pete!" Ray panicked when he saw what was happening and scrambled to catch Peter, before the poor man could collapse. However, the ghost appeared to dislike this and her form abruptly changed. Going from the sweet visage of the elderly woman to some kind of banshee-like creature; screeching with fury.

Yikes!

Grabbing Peter's arm, Ray yanked him back as they paled at the horrendous sight; before they all decided that it was high time they got out of there. Turning around, Ray dragged Peter as they all ran out; looking quite spooked, alarming those who saw them running by. Mr. Delicore was running out the door, trying to follow them.

_Pain..._

"Did you see it?" Delicore cried, calling out to them.  
"What was it?"

Peter managed to turn his head, flinching at the bruise that was sure to form later. "We'll get back to you on that!" He called, and soon, all three men were gone. Mr. Delicore stood there, at the top of the stairwell, looking utterly confused.

What on earth happened down there?

.-.-.-.

"What the heck was that all about?" Ray demanded, as they finally made their way back to the campus. Peter grimaced, limping heavily as he was favoring his right side for some reason; looking pale and withdrawn. "Can you ask me about that later?" He groaned, his head throbbing like mad. All he wanted at that moment, was a hot shower and a _long_ rest.

"This may not have been a bust," Egon mused as he looked over the readings that the PKE Meter had picked up. "If these calculations are correct," His eyes lit up, though he was doing his best to _not_ look over at Peter. "Then we may be able to catch a ghost and study it indefinitely."

Oh really now?

"Well, this is great!" Ray exclaimed as he looked the readings over with excitement. "If this ionization is correct for all spiritual entities, we may be able to bust some spiritual heads." He suddenly winced at the implications of his words, turning a light pink. "In a spiritual sense, of course," He hastily added in.

Peter stopped, looking at Egon curiously. "Spengs," He said slowly. "Are you serious about _catching_ a spirit?" Egon nodded, his lips quirking slightly. "I'm always serious." Which, Peter had to concede. "The possibilities are unlimited!" Ray exclaimed as they walked down the endless halls to their lab.

Wait a minute...

Green eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of several men in uniform carting out furniture down the hall. Peter frowned, one hand unconsciously on his left side; right around the rib cage, watching as more furniture was being carted down the hall. This couldn't be good, as some of the equipment looked an awful lot like theirs.

** _Oh he wouldn't...!_ **

"Hey, Dean Yeager!" Ray greeted cheerfully, spotting the Dean in their lab. "What's going on?" He asked curiously, seeing the man carting their stuff away. "Are we being moved to a different office?" Dean Yeager turned with a deep frown, and was there a bit of regret in his brown eyes? "No," He said firmly. "You're being moved _off_ campus." Ray and Egon felt their hearts sink at the implications. "The board of regents has decided to terminate your grants," He sniffed. "And you are to vacate the premises immediately." One of the men had returned, and gently tugged Ray's camera away from him; and the man sulked. He had some pretty good pictures on there, too.

A soft groan.  
...eh?

Dean Yeager's frown deepened as he saw that Venkman's condition had worsened since this morning. "And you," He scolded gently. "I told you to go home and rest." Peter didn't answer, his head lowered as his breathing was becoming more labored. "Pete?" Ray's voice was oddly subdued, as he watched the seemingly frail man like a hawk.

Something was terribly wrong.

Peter looked up slowly, blinking owlishly as his hand suddenly came away, his fingers stained with a dark, crimson fluid. A dark stain was rapidly spreading across his left side, and he appeared to be going into shock. With a soft moan, his eyes rolled back and he slumped against the wall; falling into blissful unconsciousness.

"Peter!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aren't I a stinker?


	5. Dat afara?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looks like Peter got himself some new...guards, to say the least.

The moment Peter Venkman passed out, a flurry of activity began almost instantaneously. Dean Yeager was alarmed, having taken a step back as both Ray and Egon, were by their fallen friend's side; worried. Peter was slumped against the wall, having slid to the floor; decidedly pale as blood continued to drip from who knows where.

Eyes as sharp as ever, Ray bit his lip, but reached out to check thoroughly for any potential injuries. He couldn't believe that Peter would keep something like this hidden, didn't he trust them? He felt for anything broken, and despite the hiss from Peter; Ray couldn't find anything. However, as his hands brushed against Peter's left side, he felt a warm liquid seeping through.

Bingo.

Frowning deeply, Ray gently lifted Peter's shirt. To his shock, Peter was not only skinny, but there was some definite toned muscles. But, this wasn't what got his attention; it was the angry gash going across his side. H-How did _that_ happen? "Egon," He hissed, eyes locked on the injury. The blond peered over his shoulder, and his eyes narrowed slightly. "Dean Yeager," Egon said flatly as the man jumped to attention. "We'll need one of the nurses down here immediately." Dean Yeager was a bit taken back, but nodded grimly. 

"Very well."

.-.-.-.

In the end, while the cut was deep, it didn't require the use of stitches. Although, it was a little funny when one of the nurses reamed into both Spengler and Stantz; scolding them as if they were still young, mischievous boys. Turns out, there was a good reason why the Dean and even some of the staff, were protective of Peter. 

Hemophilia.   
A rare blood disorder.

.-.-.-.

"I can't believe this," Ray groaned, pacing nervously. It had been a week or so, since they were released from the university. "Forget MIT or Standford now," He moaned as Peter watched him tiredly, but there was a faint smile gracing his lips. As for Peter, he was told to take it easy for a few days, otherwise than that, he was perfectly fine; if not a little skinny. "No university will touch us with a ten foot pole!" Ray's furious muttering was beginning to annoy him. "Call it fate or luck," Peter shook his head. "But, I get the feeling that this was _meant_ to happen." Ray shot him a dark look, sulking almost.

"You've never worked in the private sector," He said dryly. "They're not like the university." Ray's eyes darkened, before shuddering in memory. "They expect results." Ray tilted his head curiously. "And what do you mean by _meant to happen_?" He questioned. Peter snickered softly, his green eyes sparkling with mischief.

"By going into the hunting business ourselves."

Ray blinked, before looking thoughtful; looking out to the lake. The two were at a park that overlooked a small lake, discussing what their future would be; now that they were no longer associated with the university. "This ecto-system that Egon and I have been planning..." He murmured. "is going to require a _ton_ of money." He looked over at Peter. "And where are we supposed to get that kind of money?" He asked dryly. Peter merely smiled, a knowing look in his eyes. "Leave that to me," He promised as Ray sat back; a bit confused.

What are you up to this time, Peter?

.-.-.-.

Egon and Peter gently led the still in-shocked Ray, from the bank; finally finished with their meeting. "Don't worry about it, Ray," Peter soothed, inwardly grimacing. "My parents left me that house," Ray finally mumbled, his voice shaken that they had used his childhood home as apart of the loan. "I was born there!" He whimpered.

"You're not going to lose the house," Peter insisted. "You'd be surprised by the amount of mortgages people have these days," He continued, flinching as his side protested from the on flurry of recent activity. "But at nineteen percent?" Ray gaped. "You didn't even _try_ to bargain!" Another sharp pain stabbed at his side, and Peter was doing his best; but he was losing energy rather quickly. "Will you relax?" He snapped, breathing a little heavy. "Everything will work out in the end," Peter snipped. "You'll see."

Maybe.  
Maybe not.

.-.-.-.

Now for the hardest part of their mission. Finding a building that was suitable for their needs. Peter managed to find a good real estate agent, and she lead them all over the city; looking for a building that could work. It wasn't until they came to an abandoned fire house, where things started to look up for them.

(...)

Ugh.

Peter wrinkled his nose as he leaned on his new cane; frowning deeply. The air was quite musty, seeing how no one had been here in years. There was a heavy layer of dust covering what furniture was left, lining the walls and even the floors held their own layer of filth. Cobwebs hung from about every corner, leaving one to wonder just what else was in here. The windows alone looked like they hadn't been touched in years.

The agent had a faint smile, her eyes hard; yet concerned as she pointed out various areas of the fire house. "There's office space," She gestured to the area behind the receptionist desk where, sure enough, there were several closed off rooms. "The sleeping quarters and showers are on the top floor," She continued. "And a full kitchen upstairs and to the left."

Peter hummed softly, his eyes traveling around the area, carefully noting every little detail. "It just seems a little pricey for a picker-upper," He mused before shaking his head. "What do you think, Egon?" Peter asked curiously, fighting back a shiver as the blond stood behind him. "This building should be condemned," Egon said flatly.

Oh?

"There's serious metal fatigue in _all_ of the load bearing members," The agent grimaced, her pretty face tightening slightly. "The wiring is substandard," Egon shook his head in disgust. "completely inadequate to our needs."

"Hey!"

The three looked over to see that Ray was peering down from the top of the old pole. "Does this pole still work?" There was a hint of childish glee in his voice as he eagerly took the pole down; his eyes bright with joy. "This place is awesome!" He squealed, surprising Peter and Egon. He had been against everything from the beginning, and _now_ he was on board?

What the hell?

"When can we move in?" Ray asked eagerly. Sighing, Peter slowly turned to the agent, who had a bemused look on her face. "Looks like we'll take it," He said tiredly as she smiled widely. "Good," She said with a pleased smile. Yeah, yeah, lady; _you're_ the one making the money today.

Peter staggered as a wave of dizziness washed over him. Rubbing at his temples, Peter shook his head; as if to clear away the fog. As he looked back over the main level, it looked different to the semi-dazed man. Gone was the heavy dust and layers upon layers of grime. The walls were a soft golden oak, the floors nice and shiny and the windows sparkled under the warm sunlight. The offices had been repaired, cleaned and in pristine condition; the furniture having been replaced with the latest styles. His eyes traveled over to where, what used to be a row of dented lockers; were newly installed lockers sat. There was even a dark wooden desk in front of the lockers; lockers that literally bore their names.

Okay...

"Pete?"

Ray's soft voice snapped him out of his confusing thoughts. The brunette looked up, his green eyes somewhat glazed, blinking owlishly. "You okay over there?" He asked softly, a bit concerned as Peter shook his head, rubbing his temples. "Y-Yeah," Peter mumbled, blinking furiously as the firehouse looked like it always did; run down and filthy.

** _Was I seeing things, just now?_ **


	6. Acasă bântuită

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuul...
> 
> Why does that name sound so familiar?

The sun shone in the endless blue skies; bathing the city in its warmth. A rather grand looking apartment, seemed to stand out among all the ones on the street. Perhaps it had something to do with the creepy looking statues on top? A taxi pulled up, and a pretty young woman stepped out; carrying several bags loaded down with groceries. She was pretty, with shoulder length dark auburn curls, fair skin and warm doe brown eyes. Dana Barrett hummed softly as she awkwardly adjusted a bag or two, paying the driver his fees and began to make her way into her apartment.

Dana took the elevator to her floor, tired from carrying so many bags and had just stepped out onto her floor; when a frail looking man stepped out. Oh, she recognized him and inwardly grimaced. It was Louis Tully, a frail and shy man who lived a few doors down from her. He was a painfully thin man with slicked dark hair and big brown eyes that stood out from behind thick bottled glasses.

His eyes brightened up when he saw her, a shy little smile gracing his lips. "Hi Dana," He greeted shyly. "I thought that maybe the delivery guy from the drug store was here," He mumbled, his voice quiet yet firm. Dana lowered one of the bags as she fumbled around for her keys; raising an eyebrow at him. "Are you sick?" She asked curiously. Louis shook his head. "No, I just ordered some more vitamins," He admitted. "That's all." Dana was quiet, listening but silently wishing that he would leave. She wasn't oblivious to his actions, not at all. Louis was a nice guy and all, but he just wasn't her type.

"Listen Louis," She said tiredly over his soft chatter. "I'd like to stay and chat, but I have a rehearsal in a while." Louis blinked, but ducked his head. "Alright," He said quietly and was about to go back inside, when something came to him. "Oh, Dana?" Louis sounded a bit concerned.

"You really shouldn't leave your TV on so loud when you leave," He pointed out, his voice soft as always. "That creep from down the hall phoned the manager about it." Dana blinked, a bit taken back as she looked to her door with a soft frown. "That's odd," She mused. "I don't remember leaving it on," Dana sighed, picking her bags up. "Thank you for letting me know," She called over her shoulder, unlocking the door as she finally gone inside. Louis' cheeks were slightly pink as he ducked back into his apartment. Dana was really pretty, and well, he was a guy alright! 

Could you blame him for having a crush on her?

(...)

Drained, Dana managed to make her way into her apartment, and sure enough; the TV was on. She tilted her head, frowning as she put the bags down on the counter. Hm, Dana honestly couldn't remember leaving it on, but then again, she had been distracted lately with her troupe. The chances that it was left on without realizing it, was highly probable. Curiously enough, the TV was turned to an ad of three men in front of a firehouse; all wearing similar blue lab coats. Oh? Dana raised an eyebrow, as if amused; while unloading her groceries. There was a sweet, if not geekish, air about the trio; almost reminding one of the shy little brother type.

_"Are you troubled by strange noises in the night?"_ The auburn haired man asked slyly. _"Do you experience feelings of dread in your basement or attic?"_ The blond took over, his voice low, monotonous really. _"Have you or someone you know ever seen a spook, specter or ghost?"_ The youngest teased. _"If the answer is yes, then don't wait another minute,"_ The first man said, holding a strange device in his hand. _"Pick up your phone and call the Ghostbusters!"_ Then, the name flashed on the screen in bright red letters, followed by a phone number of 555-2368.

Huh.

Shaking her head, Dana switched the TV off and went back to what she was doing. She needed to get these groceries in the fridge, shower and change into her clothes before the rehearsal. Dana put the eggs, a dozen pack, down on the counter and was pulling things out when some_thing_ happened on the counter behind her.

The egg pack quivered, before the lid snapped open on its own. Then, one-by-one, the eggs popped; sending their contents onto the counter as they slowly began to cook on their own. Dana whirled around in shock, her eyes wide at the sight. This was something that should be physically impossible, but it was happening right before her eyes!

_Grrrrr..._

...huh?

The woman, whose heart was racing, paled when she heard the low, guttural growl coming from her refrigerator. Drawing in a sharp breath, Dana placed the loaf of bread down and hesitantly reached for the knob; the growls growing louder by the moment. Biting her lip, Dana's brown eyes harden and she grabbed the knob, opening the fridge. 

Only, it wasn't what she was expecting.

Instead, Dana found herself staring into an abyss of purplish clouds; icy lightning cackling in the distance. Within moments, a massive beast was in front of her with glowing red eyes, a deep guttural voice rumbling from its throat.

**ZUUL!**

Screaming, she slammed the door and looked back to the TV with a stark white face and wide eyes. The Ghostbusters...could they...? Another rumble from behind cinched Dana's decision. She hastily grabbed her jacket and ran out the door. There was no way she was staying here with whatever was in that fridge!

Hell no!

.-.-.-.

Peter leaned on his cane, looking up as the worker was adjusting the temporary sign. "You don't think it's too subtle, do you?" He called up to the worker, who snorted softly; but shook his head. Hearing the low rumble of an old engine, Peter turned his head, just in time to see a battered hearse pulling up.

"Hey!" Peter snapped as the driver pulled to a complete stop, just inches from where he was standing. "You can't park here!" Peter groaned, rubbing his temples as Ray got out of the hearse. "You can relax," He said cheerfully. "I found us a car." Ray could be something else, and Peter had the feeling that this was something that he didn't want to know about. "It just needs some suspension work and shocks, brakes, brake pads, lining, steering box, transmission, rear end -" Peter was paling at the amount of work needed for the old thing, looking at the old car; before a sharp pain shot across his searing temples. 

For a moment, the car didn't look like a hearse, but a full transformation. The car was now a shiny white with a red tail end. A checkered pattern lined the sides; and an odd looking device was set on top. Peter blinked owlishly, shaking his head as the image dispersed, leaving the old hearse behind.

Okay...

** _I think I need to sit for a while..._ **

"H-How much?" Peter asked, weakly; his head throbbing terribly. "Only forty-eight hundred," Ray commented, ignoring the annoyed growl the younger male uttered. "...maybe some new rings, mufflers, and some wiring..." Gritting his teeth, Peter stormed inside; desperate for some relief from his migraine.

(...)

Janine Melnatz, a young woman with her auburn hair done in a pixie cut scowled as Peter Venkman stormed in, as if annoyed. But then, that scowl faded when she saw the pained mask that twisted his face and inwardly sighed. "Another headache, Dr. Venkman?" She asked dryly as he groaned; one hand against his temples as he shuddered.

"You have no idea, Janine," He muttered sourly as he hobbled past her and into his office. As he settled in his office, Egon curiously popped his head out from underneath her desk; eyes showing concern. "You're very handy," Janine giggled, blushing as his icy eyes focused on her. "I bet you like to read a lot, too."

Egon raised an eyebrow, but slowly got to his feet. "Print is dead," He muttered, looking back to Peter's office with a slight frown. "I read a lot myself," Janine admitted, her cheeks still pink. She had almost immediately developed a crush on one Egon Spengler, and seemed to love teasing Peter like you wouldn't believe. "Some people think I'm too intellectual," Janine continued, placing her book down. "Do you have any hobbies?" She asked curiously, as Egon rolled his eyes. "I collect spores, mold and fungus," He said dryly as she wrinkled her nose.

Good.

Just then, the door opened and a pretty woman walked in; shocking everyone. "Hello?" She called, her heels clicking against the floor as she walked in. Her brown eyes looked around before spotting Janine, and seemed relieved to see someone there. "Excuse me?" Her voice was soft, with a slight accent lining her words. 

"Is this the Ghostsbusters office?"

Janine looked up, startled that someone had willingly come in; nodding slowly. "D-Do you have an appointment?" She asked weakly. "N-No," The woman shook her head, she looked rather nervous; eyes darting over her shoulder as if expecting someone to be following her. Was that someone or something?

"I can help."

Peter was leaning on his cane, watching the event unfolding before him; looking pale and somewhat tired. The woman blinked, a bit surprised but gave a slight nod. "I'm not sure if you would even believe me," She murmured. Peter snorted softly. "You'd be surprised Miss...?" He trailed off, tilting his head curiously.

"Barrett, Dana Barrett," She said politely. 

A bit concerned, Egon gestured for Ray to follow as they lead Dana to their current lab which had been set up in the back, for the moment. Peter slowly followed, but not before Janine passed him some aspirin; thank god! He gave her a tired smile, before following the two; swallowing the pills dry as he thought about what could have brought Miss Dana to them.

It couldn't be good.

.-.-.-.

** _I hate being right._ **

Peter leaned against the wall, watching as Egon and Ray got the woman hooked up to a monitor; a crudely made helmet on her head. She was talking softly about what had happened, and once Peter listened to her words, dread filled him. "...and this voice said _Zuul_," She said angrily as the monitor flashed different colors, numbers scrolling too fast for the human eye to see.

...Zuul?

"That's when I slammed the fridge and left," Dana rubbed at her eyes tiredly. "I haven't been back in two days," She muttered, tiredly. Ray hummed softly, frowning a bit. That was indeed weird, and definitely required a reading. There was just one little problem, they were too busy to stop by Miss Barrett's apartment. "Zuul..." Peter mused, shaking his head. "I could have sworn I heard that name before..." He murmured, surprising Ray. "Egon, what do you think?" Ray asked, looking over at the blond, who was shining a penlight into her eyes, before taking a step back in thought.

"She's telling the truth," He said quietly.   
"At least, she thinks she is."

Dana looked affronted by his words, glaring up with angry eyes. "Of course, I'm telling the truth!" She snapped. "Who would make up something so crazy?!" Dana was curious when all three exchanged embarrassed looks, looking away in a sheepish manner. "Again," Peter said tiredly. "You'd be surprised by what these knuckleheads have come across," He teased with a slight gesture to the embarrassed Egon and Ray.

Okay...?

"Hm," Ray tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I could go down to the hall of records," He mused. "Maybe check out the structure details of the building." Ray looked intrigued, maybe even excited, at that. "Maybe the building itself has a history of psychic turbulence?" 

Another sharp stab of pain to the temples, earned a low groan from Peter; and a silent curse. The aspirin was sure taking its damn time to kick in. "I'll check the name Zuul in the usual literature," Egon piped up, his eyes still looking Peter over with concern; noting the paling pallor. 

"While you do that," Peter said quietly. "I'll take Miss Barrett back to her apartment." Dana raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "If you will, Miss Barrett?" He said lightly, limping up to her and holding out a hand. Despite his frail appearance, Peter was actually quiet strong as he easily helped her to her feet. As the two left, Egon's eyes narrowed slightly, his lips curling a bit as if annoyed. Ray, who had turned back, saw the slight change, and had to fight back a smile as he saw the stormy look in Egon's eyes. Oh, he recognized the signs alright; Egon was jealous! 

Question was, who was he more jealous of...? 

.-.-.-.

Peter Venkman wasn't what Dana had been expecting. He was actually younger than she had first thought, late teens to early twenties; he just had that 'old soul' quality to him. He was incredibly sweet and attentive, his eyes never straying to where they shouldn't; quietly listening to her words. Everything seemed to be going well.

Emphasis on _seemed_.

The moment the taxi got to the apartment, everything went straight to hell. Dana was the first to get out, looking up at her home with dread, a chill going down her spine. Ever since the incident, she had been chilled to the bone, unable to warm up; unease constantly gnawing at her. Dana had never been the type to believe in the afterlife, but now...? Now, she wasn't so sure what to believe anymore.

However, as Peter got out, an icy wave washed over him; locking him in place. Peter was white as a sheet, seemingly paralyzed as the taxi rode off. He couldn't move so much as an inch, some_thing_ was battering away at his mind; images assaulting his thoughts without any warnings.

_PAIN_

**MALICE**

"Dr. Venkman?" Dana questioned, turning her head, just in time to see him freeze in place. She was alarmed as he turned a dangerous shade of white, green eyes wide and glassy; his breathing increasing by the minute. Then, without warning, a dark red liquid began to trickle from his nose. Peter managed to look up weakly, a dark red trail leaving his lips as he struggled to speak. She was terrified when his eyes rolled back and he collapsed in a boneless heap; like a puppet whose strings had been freshly cut. 

"Dr. Venkman!"


	7. Trezirea vederii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What can Peter be hiding behind that gaze of his...?

"Dr. Venkman!"

Alarmed by this sudden revelation, Dana knelt by Venkman's fallen form; heart racing. Her brown eyes were scanning him frantically, gently shaking his shoulders. Fresh blood was steadily flowing from his nose, his breathing noisy; eyes moving frantically from underneath his lids. He was looking a bit peaky as his body twitched without remorse.

"Venkman, _please_ wake up," She pleaded, nervous by the blood that was dripping. For a moment, nothing happened, but then Venkman was sagging with relief; his body shivering. His eyes were squeezed shut, breathing heavily as he struggled to regain his bearings from the sudden assault. Ooh, did his body _hurt_; it felt like his nerves were on fire, making it a bit painful for him to move.

"Dr. Venkman?" 

Peter groaned, hearing muffled as if someone had stuffed his ears full of cotton. His head felt like the granddaddy of all headaches, but he was at least conscious and aware of his surroundings. Peter could hear Dana's soft voice calling for him; her fear strong. His body was quivering, and he could feel a warm liquid dripping from his nose; as the metallic taste of blood, flooded his mouth.

Ah, geeze.

"M'fine," Peter mumbled, his stomach churning as he struggled to regain control. It was true, though. The pain was beginning to dull itself, though his limbs would occasionally twitch. "No, you're not," Dana snapped, gently placing a hand on his shoulder as he was beginning to stir. He was still far too pale for her tastes, and his nose was still bleeding; though it appeared to be slowing down.

He grimaced, barely able to lift his arm as his eyes slowly opened; the light practically searing in intensity. "W-wa-wasn't ex-expecting," He slurred, shielding his eyes as his throat seemed to tightened. Peter finally managed to push himself into a sitting position, his muscles protesting from the sudden movement. She raised an eyebrow, leaning back as he sat up; brown eyes scanning him carefully. After awhile, Dana sighed; almost fondly, and slowly got to her feet once more. "Come on," She bent down and helped him to his feet, albeit he was swaying as he stood. "At least, let me get you cleaned up," Dana insisted as he blinked owlishly. Peter then winced as his nose throbbed. Yeah, some cool water would probably be good right about now.

(...)

As they walked inside the building, an icy sensation washed over Peter; soothing his agitated nerves. Almost immediately, the tension melted from his shoulders and Peter relaxed as he followed Dana to the elevator. Huh, so she lived on one of the higher floors then? Lost in his own thoughts, Peter absentmindedly scanned the lobby before raising an eyebrow. This was fancier than the New York Plaza; and to think, this was an apartment! His green eyes locked on Dana's back as he tilted his head in curiosity. Wonder what kind of job she had, to make the kind of money to live in such a fancy place?

.-.-.-.

Wow.

** _Nice digs._ **

The apartment was fairly nice, if not a bit snug. The kitchen overlooked the living room, and he could see a door around the corner of the kitchen; the bedroom perhaps? Dana was hanging her jacket up, turning her head, and was amused to see him looking around her home with curiosity. Yeah, she didn't look like the type to live in a classy place like this, did she?

Peter's attention was drawn to the kitchen, remembering Dana's earlier words. Ignoring the drying blood that matted his face, Peter took a closer look. He was surprised to find an opened carton of eggs, sitting on the counter; practically every egg had cooked itself upon the counter...just like she said. Weary, he looked to the fridge with suspicion. Taking a deep breath, Peter reached for the handle and carefully opened the fridge. Well, this was a disappointment. "You actually eat this kind of junk?" He asked skeptically, catching her attention. Dana turned sharply, her eyes widening as the fridge door opened; revealing the interior of an ordinary fridge.

What the -?!

"You don't understand," Dana cried as she stormed over; stunned. "This wasn't here before!" She protested as he took a step back, raising his hands in defense. "There was just an empty abyss with fire everywhere, creatures flying and snarling," Dana continued, her eyes tearing up in frustration. "And I heard a voice say _Zuul_!" 

Peter frowned, his eyes going from Dana to the fridge and back again, before sighing. "I'm sorry Miss Dana," He said quietly. "But the barrier sealed itself," His words caught her attention, and she silently filed them for later. "So, there's nothing here now." She scowled, turning her head away as she huffed angrily. "Great," She said sarcastically, her hands on her hip. "Either there's a monster in my kitchen or I'm going crazy." Peter winced, but gave her a sheepish smile. "I don't think you're crazy," He said weakly as she rolled her eyes. "Oh, that makes me feel so much better," She grumbled. 

Okay...

** _Maybe I should go now...?_ **

Peter was hesitant about staying now, as he wasn't sure on how to deal with an angered woman. An angry woman was a scary woman, after all. Then, his head throbbed without warning, followed by the dull twang in his nose; causing him to wince and stagger slightly in place. Oh, dizzy spell - not good. "Are you alright, Venkman?" Dana asked gently, seeing him stagger. He was pale, though his cheeks held a slight green tinge as if he was about to be sick. Peter shook his head, rubbing at his temples as his stomach lurched; nausea churning his senses. "I-I think I need to sit," He mumbled, looking as if he was doing his best in _not_ to being sick.

Oh-oh...

.-.-.-.  
**Two Days Later**

The guys were sitting around the table, enjoying a meal of Chinese takeout; cans of pop sitting by their plates. Janine was downstairs, busy cleaning her desk up so that she could sign out for the evening. Research wise into Dana Barrett's case wasn't going so well, as Ray nor Egon could find a single scrap of info on the name Zuul; though, they did find something interesting about the apartment building she lived in.

That was something, right?

"To our first customer," Peter announced, swallowing his Orange Chicken. "To our first and _only_ customer," Ray corrected, dryly. Peter suddenly stopped, tilting his head as if listening to something. He gave the barest of smiles, before placing his chopsticks down; catching their attention.

Oh?

Downstairs, Janine was about to grab her purse when the phone abruptly rang. She turned sharply with wide eyes and hastily answered it. "Hello, Ghostbusters," Janine's eyes widen as the caller spoke frantically. "Yes, of course their serious," She told the man, her voice gentle as she tried to calm the anxious caller. "You do? No kidding," Janine grabbed a pen and scribbled down the address with a smile. "Don't worry, they'll be totally discreet!" She squealed and hurriedly hung up. Janine looked up with a wide grin, knowing that the guys will be eager, and hopefully, _hopefully_, they'll be discreet with the assignment.

"We got one!"


	8. O privire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things at the Sedgewick doesn't go as well as they would have hoped for.

"We got one!"

Ray looked up, his chopsticks; which was loaded with some chicken, his eyes wide as the alarm went off. Realization dawned on him, and he couldn't believe that it was finally happening. "A call!" He squealed, frantically dropping the box back to the table. Egon, too, looked excited at the possibility of the outcome of this potential call.

Peter, on the other hand, was calm as he stood up and carefully made his way down; humming softly. Hold on a tick, had he known that they were about to get a call? This would, unfortunately, have to be put aside as they geared themselves up. Sadly, neither Egon nor Ray would remember this little tidbit, granting Peter a little more privacy.

Just how he liked it.

(...)

As they suited up; gathering the proton packs as they loaded the Ecto-1, Ray suddenly realized something. "Wait," He looked up as Egon started the engine and they were speeding out. "Where are we going, anyway?" Peter, who had been given the paperwork, looked down at the address with a raised eyebrow.

Huh.

** _Why am I not surprised?_ **

"The Sedgewick Hotel," Peter mused. Ray was surprised, but then grew thoughtful. With how old the hotel was, it wouldn't surprise him if there were a few spooks roaming the building. Peter frowned deeply, before his eyes narrowed slightly as if remembering something. "Wasn't there a bunch of unsolved murders there, like seventy years ago?" He asked suddenly.

Ray stilled.

Uh-oh...

.-.-.-.  
**Sedgewick Hotel**

Several people on the street cringed as a piercing alarm rang, an unusual car speeding down the streets of New York. Funny, the car looked like a modified hearse; which, in retrospect, was ironic, considering who owned the damn thing. Much to the curiosity of the bystanders, the nosy car pulled to a screeching halt before the infamous Sedgewick Hotel.

Oh?

Those who were walking by, all stopped as one as three men in grayish-brown hazmat suits got out of the vehicle. The heavy, unusual contraptions they were pulling out from the back definitely got some eyebrows raising. Hold on a tick, weren't those three on a commercial not too long ago?

Something about ghosts, wasn't it?

(...)

As they loaded the proton packs, Peter looked up at the hotel with a slight frown; his brows furrowing slightly. He wasn't sure if the Egon or Ray could feel it, but the building itself was giving him a bad feeling. A chill went down his spine, and the hair on the back of his neck was standing on end.

** _Why am I so nervous...?_ **

.-.-.-.

The trio walked into the main lobby; admiring the warm, golden tones of the area. Within minutes, a man with short, thinning curly brown hair that was slicked back, brown eyes and wearing a rather expensive looking brown suit; approached them. A quick look to a golden name tag indicated that he was the current manager on duty.

"Thank you for coming so quickly," The man breathed, looking rather relieved by their arrival. Egon was waving the PKE Meter over, which was flashing green, but thankfully; muted. "The guests are starting to ask questions, and I'm running out of excuses," He hissed, brown eyes darting about nervously as several guests looked over curiously.

Oh dear.

"Has it happened before?" Ray questioned, meeting the man's unease with his own calm nature. "Well," The man said slowly, tugging at his collar nervously. "Most of the original staff knows about the twelfth floor," He winced slightly. "The disturbances, I mean," He added hastily, seeing the sharp look from Peter. "But, it's been quiet for years!" The man protested weakly. "Well, until two weeks ago, that is." Egon perked up, curious about that sudden admission. Two weeks? "And it was never this bad before!" Egon hummed softly, thoughtful. 

"Did you ever report it to anyone?" Egon questioned as the manager was taken back; aghast by the question. "Heavens no!" He snapped. "The owners don't much like us talking about it," The manager frowned as he straightened up, giving the trio a stern look. "Please, you _must_ take care of this quietly," He insisted, almost shrilly, really.

_"Tonight."_  
...tonight?

"Hey, don't worry!" Ray assured the twitchy man, holding his hands up in defense. "We deal with this kind of stuff all the time," He lied, ignoring the barely concealed snort from Peter. The trio walked passed the man and headed for a nearby elevator; seemingly ignorant to the odd looks that they were getting from the guests.

"What are you guys supposed to be?" One man asked, who was waiting for the elevator, as the trio approached. He was a stocky man wearing a gray business, holding his jacket over one arm and a black briefcase in the other. "Some kind of cosmonaut?" He sounded skeptic, but stiffened when Venkman gave him a decidedly shark-like smile. "Nah," Venkman waved him off. "We're exterminators," He spoke calmly, almost as if the little lie was indeed real. "Someone saw a cockroach up on twelve." The man started inching away, eyeing their proton packs nervously. "Must be some cockroach," He murmured as Venkman's smile widen slightly.

"Bite your head off," He said lightly.

**DING!**

The soft ping of the elevator arriving caught their attention, and sure enough, the doors to one bay slowly opened. "Coming?" Ray asked cheerfully as Egon and Peter went on. The guest shook his head nervously. "I-I'll take the next one," The man said weakly as Ray shrugged and got on. 

As the doors closed, and the elevator began making its way upwards; a sudden thought came to Ray. "You know," He mused, frowning slightly as he looked up. "It just occurred to me that we haven't done a successful test run on the equipment." Peter grimaced, his hands feeling hot under the thick, black gloves.

"I blame myself," Egon muttered, sounding sour for once. "No sense worrying about it now," Ray said with a careless shrug. Peter snorted, looking up at the ceiling with annoyance. "Why worry?" He snipped, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Each of us is wearing an unlicensed nuclear accelerator on his back," Peter said dryly. "Yep," Ray agreed as the numbers flashed brightly, bypassing the lower levels. "Let's get ready." Ray was eager as the light showed that they were just one floor off from their destination. "Switch me on." Egon silently turned his proton pack on; the machine humming as it warmed up. Strangely enough, he was inching away, earning a raised eyebrow in return from Peter; who was clearly amused.

(...)

Twelfth Floor.  
The Devil's Playground - so to speak.

As they stepped out onto the floor, a chill washed over Peter; and he visibly shuddered. However, he reacted and before the other two could so much as move, Peter's hands were stilling their arms as a staff employee; a maid, came out from a nearby room. She was humming softly as she rolled her cart out; jumping when she saw the trio. The woman appeared to be in her fifties with short, graying dark hair, warm cocoa butter skin and impossibly dark eyes. "What the hell are you doing here?" She called, her voice deepening in age as two of the men looked embarrassed by something.

"I think we might want to split up," Ray said weakly, his hands shaking slightly. He realized just what could have happened had Peter not stopped him and Egon, who too, was looking a bit shaken. Egon nodded, his heart pounding; ears practically ringing. "Good idea," He agreed, still reeling from what had happened.

"Yeah," Peter muttered. "We can cause more damage that way." He shook his head, watching as Egon wandered down a hall; soon disappearing from sight. It wasn't long before Ray also disappeared from sight, but Peter remained behind to make sure that the maid was alright. Well that, and apologize for his friends excitement.

Still...  
It felt like he was being watched.

.-.-.-.

Wandering the halls, Ray looked around curiously before freezing in utter shock. To his complete disbelief, there was a glowing blob of semi-transparent green mass hovering over a cart that had been left outside a room; the covered remains of a meal, having been left behind. The thing looked quite ravenous as it devoured the remaining food.

A ghost...  
A _real_ ghost! 

"V-Venkman," Ray hissed, his eyes darting as if looking for the younger male. He cursed softly, realizing that he was alone in the hallway. "...disgusting blob," Ray grimaced as it continued to eat; sending bits of food everywhere. "Looks like I'll have to hold it myself."

**BAM**

Ray withdrew the proton wand; charged it and fired. Almost immediately, a blinding, yet searing red-orange light shot out; striking the wall next to the blob. It squealed, dropping the metal tray and sped off in fright; the dinner cart rolling behind it. Ray winced as the blob dispersed through the wall; leaving behind a splatter of light green slime, the cart immediately crashing into the wall behind it.

Crap.

Now what?

(...)

_"Welcome to my parlor..."_ Cooed a rich, yet husky, feminine voice.  
_"...said the spider to the fly..."_

Peter stilled, his back straightening slightly as his green eyes narrowed slightly. The voice was young, belonging to a woman in her early to mid twenties; but there was a slight echo to the teasing tone. A wisp of a sound that indicated that, perhaps, the one speaking wasn't entirely human herself.

Oh dear.

_"Tell me something, mortal,"_ The voice murmured.  
_"...why are you here?"_

His muscles tensed, realizing that the voice was coming from somewhere behind him. Swallowing thickly, Peter slowly turned his head, only to jerk back; seeing a woman standing there. She was a beautiful woman, to say the least; but something about her was a tad...off somehow. She was about the same height as Dana, but was so unlike the lady that it was startling. This woman was wearing an old fashioned, black strapped gown trimmed in blood red; with a black choker adorning her slender throat. She was quite pale with inky black curls done in a hime-style cut; dark red-brown eyes partially narrowed.

What the - ?

_"Well?"_ She asked, raising a brow as he blinked owlishly. Frowning, Peter turned away. "None of your damn business, lady," He grumbled. The woman straightened, her eyes somehow brighter, as she gave a cruel smile; barely noticeable scars stretching her lips. Peter inwardly cursed, realizing that he had gotten her attention.

And not in the good way, either.

Suddenly, and without warning, Peter felt a claw-like hand grip his right shoulder in a nearly painful fashion; earning a wince in return. Feeling the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, a chill going down his spine; Peter's eyes traveled downwards, only to turn white at the sight.

Hells Bells.

Now truly nervous, Peter slowly turned his head, meeting the glowing red orbs of a fully animated skeleton. A quick glance to the larger skull and longer limbs, immediately confirmed that the skeleton was in fact, a male. Webbing appeared to be wrapped around the skull, ankles and even fused into the spinal chord! The poor thing was weighed down by a lumpy sack of who knows what, a red glow rattling ominously from its rib cage.

Damn.  
What a way to go.

_"Interesting,"_ She mused, seeing his reaction to her little pet. _"A mortal who can truly see us."_ The woman cackled gleefully. _"You'll make a good pet for my master,"_ She cooed, reaching a long, slender gloved hand out; caressing his left cheek. Peter withdrew sharply, his green eyes narrowing slightly; unable to look away from the reanimated skeleton.

_"Nu se va întâmpla, doamnă,"_ He snapped back, his words coming out in his native tongue; his accent thick. The woman's smile took on a more dangerous tone, causing Peter to take a step back; or, he would have, had another skeleton not grab his free hand. Peter grunted as he was held down, the unnatural strength forcing him to his knees; as he glared up at her. _"Oh dearie,"_ She cooed, her eyes more red now. _"You don't have much of a choice."_ There was something that he hadn't noticed about her dress. There was a blood red marking on her toned stomach, resembling an eerie looking hourglass. 

_"What my master wants, he gets."_

Shit.

Those so-called 'scars' he saw earlier? Yeah, turns out that they weren't scars, but a literal part of her damn mouth! Peter's green eyes widen as her jaw stretched into an unnatural length, revealing two rows of needle sharp teeth; her canines far longer and dripping with a poisonous purple fluid. 

Fuckity, fuck, fuck!  
A fucking Dryder!

Peter gasped, buckling wildly underneath her as her fangs sank deeply into his throat. The pain was immense, which was immediately followed by a burning heat that soon swept over him; causing his knees to buckle. He felt nauseous as his stomach churned, his very nerves felt like they were on fire; with how much it hurt to even move. Within moments, she pulled back, looking very human; if not transparent. The skeletons promptly vanished, leaving Peter to fall forward; breathing heavily as bile rose up. _"You won't be able to resist his call,"_ She cooed as he groaned softly, his body burning. _"Sooner or later,"_ The woman said softly, her voice surprisingly gentle.

_"You'll come to us."_


	9. O coborâre lentă

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite how things were going, they came there for a job.
> 
> Peter just wished he wasn't feeling so ill.

_"You'll come to us."_

The woman's soft voice echoed painfully as she vanished. The temperatures, which had dropped sharply with her presence, rapidly returned to its warm state. He felt so deliciously warm now, but at the same time, his body ached terribly in places that it should not; a dangerous chill clinging obsessively to his bones.

Uh-oh.

Peter grimaced as his vision blurred, his stomach lurching. Oh, he could tell that he was losing his battle with nausea, as it was steadily increasing by the moment. One problem, there was not a public restroom on this floor; and every door was locked tight. Feeling his blood burning, Peter weakly looked around, before spotting a large, potted plant at the far end of the hall. Thankfully, the pot was deep enough.

Made it!

The brunette reached the pot just as his stomach lurched. The hallway was soon filled with the sounds of some poor soul retching; a sour, metallic odor heavy in the air. Peter whimpered, his body trembling as he heaved violently; a thick, toxic purplish fluid was dripping from his mouth. This couldn't be good...

**_What the fuck is_** that **_stuff, anyway?_**

Seeing that odd substance, how thick it was; left a dark feeling in Peter. He felt disturbed at seeing it, and how much was coming from him. After awhile, and a dangerous amount now pooled within the pot; Peter felt his stomach finally settle. He winced, cringing slightly at the sight, before silently telling himself to leave a note to not only the housekeeping service, but an apology to the current manager.

** _Why me...?_ **

(...)

It took awhile before Peter Venkman felt presentable enough to continue. Sighing, he wandered the halls and had just turned a corner, when he froze. There, shaking itself off was a glowing green blob of...some_thing_. Its presence, however, was rather weak; just a sensation of hunger. Well, at least this blob wasn't with _her_. Peter's right hand shakily went for his walkie-talkie; switching it on immediately. "Come in, Ray," Despite what had happened, only moments before, Peter's voice was surprisingly calm. There was a rough burst of white noise, before Ray's excited voice could be heard.

_"Venkman, I saw it!"_

The little blob turned, as if surprised. Beady yellow eyes squinted, before a curiosity overcame the odd being. "It's right here, Ray," Peter said flatly. "And it's looking this way." Peter inwardly grimaced as he could practically _feel_ Ray's excitement over the radio. What Ray said next, however, seemed to cinch things.

_"Ugly little spud, isn't he?"_

Oh...

Its yellow eyes narrowed and Peter cringed as it screeched; flying towards him with rapid speed. Yep, it definitely heard what Ray said, and was pretty angry. 

** _Thanks a lot, Ray!_ **

(...)

Ray snapped to attention, alarmed when he heard a faint screech and Peter's angry cursing. He winced as he realized what could have lead to this, and was soon hurrying down the hall as he searched frantically for Peter. Surprisingly enough, he found Peter not too far from the elevator bay.

The young man was sprawled on his back, spluttering as a thick, semi-clear substance coated his shivering frame. "What happened?!" Ray demanded as he knelt down. Peter groaned, coughing wetly as he struggled to focus. "...he slimed me..." He growled, feeling ill and weakened. Ray's eyes lit up. "_Actual_ physical contact!" He squealed. "Wait," The auburn haired man grew concerned as this was something undocumented. "can you move?" However, before Peter could answer; both their radios activated as Egon's voice could be heard. 

_"Ray? Come in Ray!"_

"I feel so funky," Peter groaned, his body felt like it was being weighed down by something heavy. In the excitement, Ray grabbed his radio, lifting it up as he spoke. "Spengler," Gee, Ray, couldn't you show a little more concern? "I'm with Venkman," Ray continued with a grin. "He got slimed!"

_"That's great, Ray! Save some for me."_

Peter, who had heard him, shot the radio a dirty look. "There goes your Christmas present," Peter hissed, green eyes flashing as he was finally helped up. Ray scratched his cheek, looking elsewhere as he realized that Venkman was displeased with his situation. 

Yeah...Egon, you might want to stop at that point.

_"You guys need to get down here right away. It just went into a ballroom."_

Wait - what?

.-.-.-.

It took the duo a bit to get back to the main level, as it took Peter a few moments to regain usage of his limbs. Strange how Egon got down so quickly, even with the delay of the elevators. Thankfully, the manager saw their plight and hurriedly brought a towel for Peter; cringing at the sight of the slime covered man. 

While Peter did his best to clean up, Ray was speaking with the manager. "Okay, sir," Ray soothed the agitated man. "If you and your staff will just wait out here," He gestured to the safety of the lobby. "we'll take care of it." Snorting softly, Peter followed Ray into the ballroom; where Egon was waiting for them. Almost immediately, as the door closed behind them; it locked itself perfectly.

Oh boy.

(...)

Egon was found hunching over as he waved the PKE Meter everywhere, before it flashed red and he abruptly looked up. Sure enough, the green blob was flying around a chandelier; seemingly quite agitated. "There he is," Ray mused as he and Peter stepped up to Egon, who nearly jumped. "That's the one who slimed me," Peter growled, green eyes flashing. Who knew that ectoplasm was so heavy? "Alright," Ray breathed softly as he looked to his companions. "ready?" He asked as he unhooked his pasitron. 

"Fire!"

(...)

The manager jerked back, whirling around in shock. He wasn't the only one, who had been left reeling in shock. There had been a loud, frightening crash coming from behind the double doors. He tried to see what was going on, only to find that the doors were locked from the other side.

What was going on in there?

(...)

Ray grimaced, flinching as the chandelier was struck instead. The once grand piece fell from the ceiling, crashing head first into the covered table below. "That was my fault!" He apologized. They had attempted to strike the blob, but wounded up hitting the chandelier instead. Egon suddenly paled as he remembered something.

"There's something that I forgot to tell you," He said with a pained wince as the other two turned to him curiously. "Whatever you do, do **not** cross the streams." Ray stilled, before realization dawned on him. "Oh, that would be bad," He murmured, leaving Peter rather confused. "Bad?" He repeated. "Exactly _how_ bad are we talking about?" Peter demanded, his voice icy.

Er - 

"A total protonic reversal," Ray whispered, shuddering at the possibility. Peter looked between the two of them with a deep frown, green eyes narrowing slightly. "I'm not even going to ask," He finally muttered, looking back to the blob with a scowl. Peter made a gesture; signalling that they would surround the blob. Perhaps that way, they could trap the little bugger. 

Time to wrap things up.

.-.-.-.

"I assure you, Mrs. Von Hoffman," The manager assured the older woman; who was looking rather agitated. "there is nothing wrong with the room." He was practically a bundle of nerves, feeling sick himself. Who knows what those three were doing in there? Oh, he hoped that they weren't causing too much trouble. "It will be ready, promptly on time," He soothed. "as soon as your guests are with us." As he said this, several people flinched when another loud, crackling noise came form behind the locked door. One of the strange mens' voice rose up, rather loudly at that, leaving them rather confused.

_"That last throw wore him down, but he's gonna move!"_ There was an angry curse, followed by another crackling noise. _"I need some room to lay the trap, though."_ The manager stilled, eyes wide with shock. Trap? Did that man say 'trap'? What kind of trap was he about to use?! Oh, that did it. Frowning deeply, he made a motion to a nearby bellhop; signaling that he needed security and fast.

Those three had better have a good explanation for this!

(...)

As soon as Ray spoke, Peter grunted, staggering as his head suddenly exploded with pain. His vision blurred, as it felt like someone had placed something invisible over his ears; muffling his hearing a bit. Despite this, he heard the startled noises that both made and what sounded like something heavy being pushed aside.

Wait - _what_?

Confused, Peter's eyes opened and he was left gaping at the sight. Somehow, someway, a pair of covered tables had been gently pushed aside; its contents undisturbed. Egon was looking at Peter with suspicion, but there was a gleam of curiosity. Then, Peter felt something warm dripping down his nose.

Oh hell.

He reached up, only moments later, bright red droplets could be seen against his black gloves. Crap, looked like he busted a vessel. Great, Peter hated having bloodied noses; they were always a pain in the ass to heal. But, this was not the time to worry about that. He just wasn't sure what had happened, and it looked like he was due for a heavy lecture soon.

But first...

**_You..._**

Peter glared at the blob, his pupils flickering slightly; almost cat-like, really. "Alright," Ray said with determination; making a note to himself to talk with Peter later. "I'll need a confinement stream from you Spengler," He called as the other nodded, his eyes hardening slightly. "Now!" Egon fired, and the red energy struck the blob. However, this time, the energy curled around the blob; holding them in place.

Then...

_"Owww!"_ A high-pitched, childish voice whined. Peter froze, that couldn't have been..._him_, could it? A quick look to both Ray and Egon, confirmed Peter's suspicions. Neither of them reacted to the childish voice, only Peter had. Then that meant...aw hell no!

"Now, Peter!"

Peter's stream struck, latching onto the blob; keeping them pinned. He inwardly cringed as he heard the childish voice cry out; the blob's arms moving frantically as it struggled to escape. 

_"That hurts mister!"_ The blob whined pitifully.

"Good, it's working," Ray breathed. "Start bringing him down," His soft words were firm as he lowered to the floor, slowly withdrawing the trap from his belt. "And whatever you do, don't cross the streams!" Ray scolded. "Maybe now you'll think twice about sliming a guy with a positron collider, huh?" Peter snapped as slowly, but surely, the blob was being lowered from the ceiling.

_"I'm sorry mister,"_ The blob whined, finally looking down; seeing the men. _"I was just so hungry."_ Crud, the blob really was talking. And why the hell did it sound like a young child? Peter felt sick to his stomach, and it wasn't from earlier, either. "Venkman!" Egon's frantic voice aroused him from his darkening thoughts. "Shorten your stream," He called over. "I don't want my face burned off!" Peter inwardly grimaced. Yeah, that wouldn't be a good thing, would it? He immediately switched angles; carefully shortening the stream as the blob was roughly five to six feet above their heads.

Perfect.

Ray tossed the trap out, the little black-and-yellow-striped, modified power box slid across the floor. "Alright, I'm opening the trap now." He hit a switch, and the trap immediately opened up; a soft blue light emitting from the machine. Peter was surprised by the new device. This was new, just what were those two working on down there? "Bring your streams off when I close the trap," Ray instructed. He was nervous, and could you blame him? They only had one chance to get this right. "Get ready...I'm closing it, _now_!" He pressed the button again, just as Peter and Egon released their hold.

There was a brilliant flash of blue light, and the blob squealed as they were abruptly pulled inside the trap; sealing itself shut. The light had been so bright, that they had to look away; unless they wanted to blind themselves. When the light dispersed itself, the trap was revealed to be fully sealed; blue energy cackling around it as smoke billowed. 

It...it worked?  
Wow.

.-.-.-.

It wasn't surprising that a crowd had gathered in the lobby. A crowd full of the hotel's guests, including a few curious passerbys. They had seen the unusual car outside and were as curious as a cat, about the owners presence. Finally, the manager was fed up with the mens' antics and looked to one of his employees. "Mr. Smith," He snapped, catching the guard's attention. "I want those doors open, and I want them open now." The man was about to take a key from his keychain, when the doors suddenly flew open; and all three men shumbled out. The middle one was holding up a weird looking device, which was still smoking quite heavily.

"We got it!" Ray said cheerfully. 

"What was it?" The manager demanded, only to cover his mouth with a handkerchief. The smoke reeked of something that really couldn't be described. "Will there be anymore of them?" Peter inwardly snorted. The blob was one of a kind, but that spider lady. Yeah, that was something that should be left alone.

For now, anyway.

"Sir," Ray mused. "What you have here is what we refer to as a focused, non-terminal repeating phantasm," He explained, holding the smoking device up. "Or a Class Five full roaming vapor," Ray grinned, looking a bit too cheerful for the manager's taste. "A real nasty one!" 

Now for the hardest part of the night.  
Payment...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, what do you guys think about a Harry Potter/FNAF story from me? For Halloween, that is.


	10. Problemele încep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The effects of Peter's earlier encounter, makes itself known.
> 
> And it all goes to hell.

He hated being right.

Working out the payment had been a bitch in-a-half. Thankfully, it was Egon who was able to work out a nice payment deal with the manager. However, before they could leave, Peter pulled the manager aside; whispering something to him. It was strange, for Ray and Egon, to see Peter looking quite apologetic as he spoke with the manager; but the manager seemed to wave his words off, although he looked concerned about something.

Wonder what that was about...?

.-.-.-.

The moment the trio stepped outside, Peter practically sagged in place. The cool evening air felt wonderful against his heated flesh. He inwardly grimaced, his muscles aching terribly as his stomach lurched; bile burning his throat once more. Ooh, it didn't help that his vision was blurring at the edges, as his head felt like it was going to explode.

** _La naiba._ **

Yes, he even thought in Romanian. Sue him, he felt like shit at the moment. All Peter wanted to do, was crawl into bed and just _sleep_ the next several days away. Eager to return and look the new data over, Egon took the wheel; starting the engine up after unloading his pack, the other two heading for the car. 

Ray looked over, his brow furrowing slightly as he saw how pale Peter look; concerned. He bit his lip, but kept quiet as he unloaded his pack; taking the front passenger seat. Peter mumbled something, shakily unloading his pack before crawling weakly into the back. He wasn't looking too good, leaving Ray desperate to know what had happened. The soft thrum of the engine was tempting, lulling Peter to Morpheus' Realm. He groaned, reaching weakly to his temples, which continued to ache. His neck felt like it was on fire, and there was a faint whimper as the possibility of what the Dryder bitch did earlier; came back to him.

Was this apart of her plan...?

Just then, a sharp pain struck his chest; causing his eyes to snap open in shock. Wait, when did he close his eyes...? 

It took Peter but a moment, to realize what was happening to him; a bone chilling terror gripping him tightly. His limbs had locked completely in place; leaving him utterly helpless to the force that was surging from within. 

_PAIN!_

It felt like every nerve was on fire. A delectable heat was coursing through him, flooding his limbs with ferocious energy. He could feel his heart pounding; the steady rise echoing almost painfully in his ears. This...this wasn't right...

What was...

_"You will come to us."_

...shit.

_"Good night, my little pet."_

(...)

The engine came to life fairly quickly, and Egon pulled away from the hotel; driving them back to the station. It wasn't easy for the duo, as silence fell upon them. It had been a concerning sight, watching as the life seemed to bleed from their companion. Once inside, Peter had practically collapsed; curling up on his side.

Thankfully, the siren was kept off; mindful of the exhausted young man. As the Eco-1 turned a corner, Ray absentmindedly looked back; before realizing just how young Peter looked. Blinking owlishly, he turned back to the road with pink cheeks. How come he had never noticed that before...?

A sudden, pained whimper.

...eh?

Feeling a chill going down his spine, a very uneasy Ray Stantz turned his head; and his eyes widen in shocked disbelief. Peter laid there, completely still, the only sound of movement was his heavy, panicked breathing. He was dangerously pale, and yet, his cheeks were flushed deeply with heat. Then, without warning, Peter's muscles stiffened. Within seconds, his body was twitching with an alarming strength; a dark liquid was beginning to seep from his gritted teeth. All-in-all, Peter was looking very, _very_ ill right now.

Crap.

What the _hell_ happened back there?!

"Egon," Ray swallowed thickly, realizing with fear that Peter was having a seizure. "You need to step on it." The blond peered up at the rearview mirror, before paling at the sight. Dark eyes narrowing angrily, Egon's foot slammed down on the accelerator; and the Eco-1 was speeding through the streets.

Blood began to flow...

.-.-.-.

Something wasn't right.

Janine had a bad feeling ever since the Sedgewick Hotel manager had called. It had only worsened as the guys left in the new Eco-1 vehicle; the siren shrieking as it drove off. She grimaced, placing a hand over her stomach as she swallowed back the rising bile. Somehow, someway, the boys had gotten themselves into trouble.

She just _knew_ it.

Janine knew that she couldn't lock up for the night, not until the boys returned. She soon found herself pacing nervously; her eyes looking to the garage doors, wringing her hands as time ticked away. Finally, after what felt like hours (it had only been about an hour?), the garage door was opening and she could see the Eco-1 was pulling in.

Wait...

She squinted from behind her glasses, before her eyes widen slightly as she caught sight of Ray and Egon in the front seats. From what she could see, both looked extremely disturbed; with Ray looking to the back with a nervous gaze. Hold on a tick - where was Peter? Switching the engine off, Egon was out of the car like the hounds of hell were at his heels. Ray, who was quite pale, he too, had gotten out in a hurry; leaving his gear behind. "W-Where's Peter?" Janine asked, her voice a bit shaken as the duo ignored her; focusing on the backseat's passenger.

Oh.  
Peter.

The petite woman had taken a step back in shock, as she realized that it was Peter who was in the backseat. Only, why wasn't he emerging? What the hell happened at that hotel?!

(...)

Oh hells bells.

Ray swallowed thickly, his heart racing as Egon opened the back door. Sure enough, despite his position, Peter was indeed having a seizure. His body was decidedly rigid, fingers curled up in a way that mimicked a dead spider; his face, a pale white mask. His breathing was coming out in harsh, pained gasps.

Wait -

_What is that?_

Ray frowned softly, his brown eyes darkening as they caught sight of something that _shouldn't_ be there. Kneeling down, he gently reached out and as his hand met Peter's shoulder; a sudden wetness, caught his attention. Ray blinked owlishly as he lifted his hand, the black glove now shiny with an unknown substance.

What...?

A strong metallic scent caught their attention. "Janine," Egon's voice was strong, but flat as he stared blankly at his friend. "We need you to call for an ambulance." Janine swallowed thickly as she hurried back to her desk, grabbing the phone as she dialed the emergency number. "Egon?" Ray whispered, staring down at his glove in a dazed state. Egon, who had carefully lifted Peter up; gently and carefully began to remove the younger male's suit. Within moments, the wound that had been so cleverly hidden, was now exposed; weeping fresh blood and something...else.

"Is that..." Ray gulped, looking very nervous. "...a bite?" Egon's brown furrowed at the sight of the deep puncture marks. Something else had happened on the twelfth floor, and it had nothing to do with the green blob that they had caught. Oh, if only they had looked more thoroughly into the hotel's history.

Damnit!

"I just called," Janine called over her shoulder, her voice nervous as it cracked. She hastily lowered the phone, heart pounding as she looked back to where the boys were; fear tugging away. "T-They'll be here in a few minutes," She stammered. Janine couldn't see what was happening, but something in her heart told her that it was bad.

_Really_ bad.

A sudden, low groan.

Ray turned sharply, surprised to see that Peter, despite the sudden seizures, was struggling to regain control. "S-S..." His voice cracked as he coughed; a low, wet sound that rattled the senses. "Pete," Ray said weakly, his brow furrowing as his eyes softened. "you shouldn't be talking." They had no idea what was happening with their friend, worried about how long the seizures were taking place.

Shouldn't they have ended by now?

Peter groaned, heaving violently as a dark red liquid began to bubble from his now bluish lips. A thick, purple substance was slowly mixing with the blood. "S-Spi..." He wheezed, feeling the fluid building in his lungs as he struggled to breath. He may have had a higher pain tolerance than the normal standards; but even his body knew when to give out. His eyes rolled back and he fell into blissful unconsciousness; his hand dropping limply. Despite his lack of medical knowledge, Egon did however, have enough to check to see whether or not, Peter was still with them. Having already stripped his gloves, Egon gently reached out, pressing a set of fingers to Peter's neck; as if looking for something.

For a moment, there was nothing.

Then, there came a faint beat, followed by a gentle throb. Egon Spengler felt his knees go weak as relief took over. Peter was still breathing, but his pulse was faint; his heart beating slowly. Wait, what was it that he was trying to say...?

Spi-?

"Was..." Ray swallowed thickly as he looked up with wide eyes. "...was he trying to say _spider_?!" Egon froze, his mind racing over the possibilities. "I've never seen a spider leave a mark that big," The blond said slowly, his dark eyes narrowing. Just then, the still full trap, rattled; greenish-blue energy cackling around it.

Oh-oh...

Before either them could think, much less react, the blazing siren of an ambulance rang their arrival. Thankfully, the door was still open as the emergency vehicle hastily pulled up; two EMT's hurrying inside. One had a medical bag on hand as the other ran up to the car; looking over their soon-to-be patient with a grim frown.

"Did he say anything?" The EMT asked quietly, noting everything.

"H-He said something about a spider," Ray stuttered as the second EMT cursed softly. "How long ago was this?" The second EMT demanded, his gray eyes darkening as both Ray and Egon exchanged helpless looks. The EMT's groaned as one, realizing that the two were going to be of no use.

Right...time to get to work.

Frowning deeply, the first EMT knelt down, gently brushing the man's collar back; exposing the still oozing wound. The bleeding was a little less now, which wasn't a good thing. A closer look, revealed to the EMT that there were the beginning formation of thin, spidery purple lines; all focused around the unusually large mark. 

Oh shit.  
Poison.

"James," The first EMT called, his voice steady. "get the gurney ready." The second EMT, James, gave the barest nods as he handed over the medical bag and hurried back to their truck; unloading the necessary tools. 

Janine felt her heart race, nausea churning her stomach as the implications struck her. Ray and Egon were pushed back as the EMT's got to work on saving Peter's life; the devastated looks on their faces were heartbreaking. It was clear to her that they both cared for Venkman, and were terrified by the outcome of his condition. The gurney was brought over, and as the two EMT's gently loaded Peter Venkman onto it, Janine drew in a sharp breath when she saw him. Peter was very pale, and growing paler by the minute. His uniform had been partially undone, revealing milky white skin that was stained with fresh blood; an eerie purplish fluid was mixing in with the still dripping blood. 

"What the _hell_ happened back there?" Janine hissed, whirling on the duo. She didn't see as a breathing mask was placed over Peter's nose and mouth, but the boys did. "We don't know!" Ray protested weakly, holding his hands up in defense. It appeared that Egon was still in shock, leaving it to Ray to explain everything.

Which wasn't much, to be honest.

"We got to the twelfth floor, where the Class Five was," Ray began, wincing as she gave him a dead look, her eyes hard; but reflecting her worry. "We separated so we could track it down," He continued, waving his hands as her eyes narrowed angrily; making him feel like he was disappointing someone of great respect. Yeesh, how was she doing this? As Peter was loaded into the ambulance, the first EMT let out an angry curse. "Get the defibrillator, James" He yelled as the doors closed ominously. And what he said next, sent a chill through their spines.

"This guy's heart just stopped!"


	11. Situații problematice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What lies in the secrets of the past? And how does it connect to what happened earlier this evening at the Sedgewick Hotel?

"This guy's heart just stopped!"

With those ominous words ringing loudly in their ears, the ambulance doors slammed shut and the car was soon out of sight. This...how could something like this even happen?! That was what was screaming in Ray's mind, over and over. And to think, it had been such an easy call, too. Or so he thought.

The Sedgewick Hotel had been a real fancy place; a perfect establishment for the rich and famous. A hotel that was steeped in history; history that both Ray and Egon were unaware of. Hold on a moment, Ray inwardly frowned as sweat glimmered upon his brow as he thought back to when the call had come in earlier that night. 

Holy Moly!

Ray seemed to have paled greatly, as the sudden memory of his and Peter's little talk came back to him. Peter had seemed a bit uneasy about the location; murmuring something about the hotel. What was it again...? Ray's brown eyes dimmed, before widening in unease.

Murders.

Peter had said something about a series of unsolved murders. Was it possible that the one behind the murders so long ago, could still be lurking at the hotel? Ray closed his eyes, as if in pain; silently cursing himself. Damnit. Instead of going in blind like they did, they _should_ have looked into the hotel's history. Perhaps, if they had, Peter wouldn't be fighting for his life.

Without warning, an abrupt rattling sounded ominously. Ray was soon snapped out from his increasingly doubtful thoughts as Egon drew in a sharp breath; dark eyes zeroing in on the car. A quick look to Janine, confirmed Egon's suspicions. The young woman showed no signs of having heard the loud noise. 

The Ecto-Trap.  
To be more precise, that damn Class Five wanted out.

(...)

It took the two boys awhile to convince Janine that they would be fine, only, she didn't appear all that convinced. Still, there wasn't much that any of them could o with it being so late. And visiting hours had ended some time ago. Yet, she still left for the night, but not before giving them some rather suspicious looks. 

Looks like they were in the clear.  
For now, anyway.

.-.-.-.

Waiting until the door closed and the sound of Janine's little car pulling away, Ray finally turned to Egon; his brown eyes nervous as the other withdrew the still rattling trap. "You don't think...?" Ray trailed off, gesturing to the trap with a jerk of the head. Egon frowned deeply, his dark eyes hard as he glared down at the trap. Something had obviously occurred after Ray had spotted the blob. Something that had affected Peter to the point where he was fighting for his very life. And at this precise moment, the Class Five was their only lead. While they hadn't known Janine Melnatz for very long, something told both that a potential interrogation of a spirit may not go so well over with her.

"I'm not sure," Egon said slowly, his voice eerily calm, and yet...Ray could clearly hear the anger underlining his words. "At the moment, it's our only option." Ray grimaced, his eyes dimming in thought as a most curious thought came to him. How the blazes were they even going to communicate with the Class Five?!

Oh boy...

.-.-.-.

What a night, huh?

Rick Evans was a friendly EMT for the many hospitals lining his hometown of New York. He had come from a poor background, the youngest of four with a single, hardworking mother. Rick watched as his mother struggled to keep a roof over their heads and food in their belly; watching as life went on outside their little home.

Rick could remember, as he grew, would see those in need without someone to help. And it truly hurt, seeing the elderly and those who were always ill, dying from simple illness; there was never a hero for them. And oh, how he wanted to help them, he truly did; but as a kid himself, that would be impossible. It wasn't until career day, roughly in his later years in Middle School; that he found his calling. Turned out that one of the potential careers that was introduced that day, was a visiting EMT. Then and there, after learning what an EMT actually did, Rick Evans knew what he wanted to be.

He had a way of helping.  
And life couldn't be more sweeter.

Or so he thought.

To think, this had been like any other day; with the usual calls coming in. But, as night fell, Rick couldn't help but get a real bad feeling. His hair was standing on end, and his flesh was rippling with goosebumps. Rick's stomach was even lurching, and his eyes kept darting about. He couldn't help it, something about this very night was off; leaving him rather unsettled. Unfortunately, while Rick thought he was being clever; believing that he was keeping his fear at bay. Eh, not quite - his partner; James Smythe, had been working alongside with him practically since day one. And well, James knew Rick all too well, and could tell when something was bothering him.

Like this evening, for example.

So, imagine Rick's surprise when they had gotten a call of someone being in distress; the address belonging to those weird guys from an earlier commercial. The one in distress, belonged to the youngest male; who was bleeding from a strange bite wound to the neck. The other two had been all but useless, unable to explain anything; save for the mumble of _spider_.

And coding as they pulled out.  
Not good.

As the ambulance sped for the Bellevue Hospital Center, Rick was eerily calm as he worked fast to save the man; who was slipping away before his very eyes. The jumpsuit had been zipped and lowered, revealing more of the festering wound; blood continuing to drip. The man was hooked up to an ECG monitor, with an IV drip bag or two providing necessary relief from the agony that he was surely in. 

Wait a minute...

_I know that kind of bite..._

Peering closely at the wound, Rick felt a chill going down his spine. He _recognized_ that type of bite. Even if it was on a grander scale, the bite was easily recognizable to those who have witnessed it before. James tensed, his shoulders stiffening as he heard Rick cursing softly from behind. "Ring it in, James," Rick said angrily.

"We have a victim of a black widow."

How the _fuck_ did Peter Venkman come across a black widow of _that_ proportion?! 

.-.-.-.

Having gone down to the basement where the Containment Grid awaited its soon-to-be resident, Ray hesitated as he looked back to the rattling trap. "Are you really sure about this, Egon?" He asked uneasily. The idea of interrogating a spirit didn't sit well with him; and he was getting a rather child like aura from the blob. When he looked over, Ray was surprised to see Egon's shoulders sagging in defeat. "No," Egon finally murmured, his dark eyes dimming. Ray walked over, placing a gentle hand on Egon's shoulder; a bit surprised when he felt the barest of trembles. And woah - were those tears in Egon's eyes?

"Hey," Ray's voice was soft. "Pete's a strong guy," He assured the other. "I doubt that something like this would keep him down." Peter was a stubborn mule, this was true. However, now that they were aware of his illness, it was a little more concerning. Neither of them had a clue as to what type of spider bit him, if it was a spider, that is. 

A quick look to the lone clock that was downstairs, Ray inwardly grimaced when he saw the time; a little bit after ten in the evening. Due to the hour, there wasn't much that could be done at the moment. Visiting hours were long since over, leaving them in the dark about Peter's fate. Hopefully, by morning there would be some good news.

Maybe...

.-.-.-.

A woman's work is never done.

_Twenty-five-year-old Evelyn Lewis gave a mournful sigh as she walked about her room at the famous Sedgewick Hotel; a hotel for the elite. She was a beautiful woman, tall and slender with a frame that many would kill for. Her inky locks were cut and styled quite nicely, framing her face perfectly; impossible dark eyes that glittered with a hidden malice. She had been living at the hotel for a few months now, sticking close to her chosen room. Evelyn had plans for not only her life, but the hereafter as well. She wanted fame and glory, to be one of the most powerful ladies to ever exist._

_But alas, now was not the time._

_Evelyn tapped her chin, looking thoughtful as her eyes gazed around the room. The once grand room had been utterly decimated by her work. The furniture had been all but rendered as kindle, curtains shredded and even strips of the golden wallpaper had been torn from the walls. A rather large 'nest', so to speak, had been set up in what was once the bedroom; it was much more comfortable than any old bed. Although, the once shimmering golden wallpaper had become dull with time; darker in appearance. A dark red substance had been splattered against the walls, across the ceiling and even soaking the once lovely carpets. However, the stains were rather dark, dirty almost; showing that they were old. _

_Ah yes._

_That was another thing - the smell._   
_The sweetness of rotten meat._

_Evelyn inwardly frowned, looking to the nest, where her prized bounties surrounded it. The meat had been far sweeter and more tender than what she had before. And that oh so sweet nectar, it was like heavenly bliss for her; aged to perfection like fine wine. Her bounties, could be considered a bit gruesome to some, but not to her._

_One might even call them 'trophies' of a sort._

_Hm, Evelyn sighed as she huffed; crossing her arms as she did so. Perhaps she had been a bit greedy with her selection. It was only by some blast be gotten miracle, that she hadn't been caught yet. Evelyn may be a woman, but she wasn't uneducated. Sooner or later, someone was bound to find out. _

_Hopefully, she would be long gone, by then._

_A sudden knocking, from the door, caught her attention. How odd, for such a thing to happen. You see, Evelyn wasn't expecting anyone to stop by, and she knew that it couldn't have been a member of the staff; as she had requested not to be bothered. Which left the burning question..._

_Who was knocking at her door?_

_Still dressed in her evening wear; a lovely, form fitting black gown trimmed in blood red, Evelyn did a quick survey and was satisfied to see that she was as clean as possible. Here's hoping that she could send whoever the intruder was, on their way. Otherwise, she would have a new trophy for her collection._

_Or so she thought._

_With an icy gaze, yet the smile of a sly predator, Evelyn Lewis opened the door; looming in the entryway. To her eternal confusion (not to mention a sense of disgust), there stood a gentleman of distinguished age; leaning slightly on a rather expensive looking cane. His dark hair was carefully slicked back, the temples a slightly paler shade, sharp aristocratic features with a thin, dark mustache and impossibly dark eyes. He wore a simple, yet tasteful black and gray tuxedo._

_Interesting._   
_Who was he?_

_The man seemed to perk up, his dark eyes twinkling as he gave a slight smile. However, there was something distinctly shark-like about it; raising her hackles quite nicely. "Hello there, Miss Lewis," His voice was low, yet rich and smooth. There was a distinct accent about his words, one that she was unable to identify. Hold on a tick - her eyes narrowed slightly, the corners of her lips tightening slightly._

_"How do you know my name?"_

_The man's smile grew, his dark eyes shone softly under the warm light of the hallway. Although, there was something about him that was rather unsettling; something dark. "My name, Miss Lewis," He said with a pleasant tone, straightening in place._

_"is Ivo Shandor."_

_Evelyn stilled, the name registering in her shock. Ivo Shandor was well known among the elite for his eccentric behavior; a powerful old family. It was curious, however, for the man to be here at the hotel. You see, it was rare for Mr. Shandor to make a physical appearance; as many considered him to be a legend, even now. "And what is it," Evelyn's voice sharpened as she gazed impassively at him. "that I can help you with, Mr. Shandor?" Ivo's eyes flashed wickedly as his smile now sent a chill down her spine. "It isn't what you can do for me, Miss Lewis," He said pleasantly._

_"It's what I can do for you."_

_Wait - what?_

_Evelyn Lewis straightened up, her arm falling to her side as his words registered with her. Numerous possibilities ran through her mind, as she thought about her potential future. She could keep on with her work, and risk capture and eventually death, or go along with Shandor's plans; and who knew what would happen._

_Decisions, decisions._   
_How's a girl to ever choose?_

_Simple._

_Evelyn gave a faint, yet cold smile of her own. "What do you have in mind, Mr. Shandor?" She asked slyly as he grinned toothily at her. This would be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Or so she thought._

.-.-.-.

**AWAKEN**

**AWAKEN AND BEGIN YOUR TRUE DESTINY**

.-.-.-.

_"...move it..."_   
_"...how can...alive...?"_

Peter groaned softly, eyes still closed as he drifted in-an-out of consciousness. His head felt muddied, thoughts broken by the haze of pain that had engulfed his very being; his body eerily heavy. He couldn't think, much less move; though, he could hear the broken words of those around him.

Where was he, anyway?

_"...venom...working..."_

Hold on a moment - 

_"Be safe, Mr. Venkman,"_ A soft voice whispered soothingly, a cool hand brushing his damp locks from his feverish face. _"Everything will be alright,"_ The voice continued, they were neither male nor female; young nor old, they were simply there. _"Rest now, little one."_ Before Peter could truly focus, he felt the gentle tugging at his consciousness, and as Peter fell blissfully into Morpheus' Realm; he couldn't help but wonder.

Who _was_ that, just now?


End file.
